


It's a Cheap World

by kelly_goosecock



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Abuse, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Armpit Kink, Blood, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Bruises, Choking, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Emotional Baggage, Glove Kink, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, Knifeplay, Licking, M/M, Murder, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Pining, Pubic Hair, Rape, Rough Sex, Spit As Lube, Suicidal Thoughts, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelly_goosecock/pseuds/kelly_goosecock
Summary: Akechi hits an unexpected stumbling block.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Maruki Takuto, Akechi Goro/Maruki Takuto
Comments: 52
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> unfinished! still working on my other stuff, i promise, but i took a break to get this started. this might be a LONG one, folks. will re-tag/update as necessary.
> 
> also, royal spoilers. go play it 
> 
> title taken from 'vanity fair' by mr. bungle. i really like them ok shut up

_ What a bunch of horseshit.  _

Really, it was a wonder Akechi had made it anywhere near the Shujin gates unmolested. There had been stares and whispers behind his back - same as ever - but he knew he wouldn't make it much farther without getting stopped. 

_ "Hey, isn't that-"  _ a schoolgirl quietly nudged her friend. Said friend whispered something back even quieter, sending them both into a fit of giggling. 

_ So blissful in their ignorance,  _ Akechi thought. He would give anything to crush their silly little fantasies with a simple dose of reality. How horrified might they be if they knew of his body count? His true feelings? How might their faces look when they realized he was so unapologetically evil?

Then he imagined the possibility that they might be even more drawn to him as a result, and he immediately wanted to vomit. They would probably make excuses for him, referencing some kind of inner damage they could never truly understand. They would think they could 'fix' that damage. Being smart and charming was one thing, but to be dark and mysterious, too? What a jackpot for little miss airheaded bimbo! They probably wouldn't even complain if he hit them or took them by force. Sickening. So sickening.

Striding up to the main entrance, Akechi readied himself for potential disaster. He adjusted his expression as if one might adjust a necktie. No matter what pressure he was under, the facade would have to stay in place.

The cop in the lobby stood out almost comically amidst the sparse flow of students through the halls. It was around noon and evidently still the middle of a class period, so Akechi could loosen up ever so slightly. Even the most ravenous of his fans would likely not burst out of their classroom, trading the wrath of their teacher for a moment of contact with Japan's most famous detective. 

"Akechi-san. Right this way."

"Of course. Good morning, sir," Akechi chirped back, grinning the exact kind of grin he knew would piss the officer off the most. His greeting was predictably met with nothing more than a grunt. 

It was no surprise that the SIU was shitting the bed as hard as they were; that was part of the plan. What Akechi  _ hadn't _ counted on was being stuck with bullshit busywork. Sure, maybe the SIU grunts and their local police liaisons didn't know they weren't going to get anything out of Akira and the rest, but they should've decided to give up after the first try proved fruitless. Perhaps it was just a PR move to have him publicly on the case. The director couldn't be stupid enough to actually think there was any point to these interviews.  _ He _ was supposed to be in the loop with Shido...

Putting all that aside, it  _ would _ make Akechi look good. The question was: would it be worth potentially being attacked by a horde of slobbering, pathetic fans?

The cop turned into an administrative room. Across the table and accompanied by a second officer was, amusingly…

"Kurusu-kun."

"Hey, Akechi-kun."

"You know this kid?" sneered one cop. 

"We're friends," Akechi put simply. "...please don't think that will introduce any bias into my assessment." 

"Wouldn't dream of it," the cop sighed. "We got all the Kamoshida kids held up on standby, so if you could get goin'..."

"By all means, sir."

………

"Holy freaking  _ crap,  _ it's him!"

"Here at Shujin? But why?"

"Hey, Akechi-kun! Hey!"

Well, shit. Akechi hadn't made it one step out of the room before all hell broke loose. Classes were over now, and a growing assortment of kids were gathering in the already clogged hallway, mumbling hushed gossip to each other.

"A-Akechi-kun… c-c-can I sh-shake your hand?"

One boy, confident enough to offer but still shaking as if he were staring at the devil, pushed to the front of the crowd, his arm extended. 

"Why, of course. Mister…?" Akechi replied, taking the boy's hand.

"K-K-K-Kaito."

"Kaito-san. Nice to meet you." 

Apparently emboldened by the young man's act and the warm reception it got, the crowd constricted around Akechi. More and more questions were being thrown at him, and people began speaking louder and louder to try and be heard over each other. 

_ "What're ya doin' here at Shujin, huh?" _

_ "Shake  _ **_my_ ** _ hand now, shake  _ **_my_ ** _ hand!" _

_ "H-hi Akechi! You're super cool!" _

"Alright, alright, settle down everyone. How am I supposed to get any work done when-"

This was a new voice, emerging from the office adjacent to the one the interviews had been conducted in. Upon seeing Akechi, the owner of the voice froze. 

"Oh, Akechi-san, could you come into my office for a moment? The school wanted me to follow up with you on a couple of things," the man claimed, sneaking a microscopic wink towards Akechi. 

It was patronizing to assume Akechi needed help getting out of any situation… but solace was solace. Besides, the clamor around him was turning back into whispers, each more depraved than the last. 

_ "Maruki-san wants to talk to Akechi-kun…?" _

_ "They're gonna be alone together in his office?" _

_ "Oh my god, that would be  _ **_so_ ** _ hot if-" _

The door shut behind him. Again, the man's offer was worth admitting a smidgen of weakness. 

"You're Takuto Maruki, right? The new counselor?" Akechi asked unassumingly. 

"Dead on. I'd say your reputation for deduction precedes you, but my name  _ is  _ on my desk right there." Just as Maruki said, there was a small name plaque propped up in full view.

"Yes, I suppose that wasn't particularly impressive," Akechi laughed back.  _ You condescending fuck.  _ "Thanks for letting me in here, though. You really saved my behind!"

"No worries. I wondered what all that commotion was. I would’ve never thought I'd have a celebrity in my office. How about a little counseling session, huh? Some of my friends would be  _ real _ jealous."

Why was this prick acting like some cheesy T.V. show host? Didn't he know those guys were all phonies? Faking a smile for a camera was annoying, but faking an entire attitude for some fairly inconsequential stranger was infuriating. Maybe the first thing he would do as soon as he got out would be to maim this guy's wife or dad or something in the metaverse. That would be cathartic. 

...and potentially incriminating. While it would likely get lost amongst the hundreds of politicians and reporters and bodyguards who 'had mental shutdowns', Akechi liked to keep his record airtight. No indiscriminate killing. No crimes of passion. Even if he allowed himself that much leeway, he'd rather not spend it on some guy who was just sort of annoying. 

That didn't stop him from imagining it, though.

"Perhaps someday, Maruki-san," he pushed through a smile.

"Well, anyway, it  _ is  _ rather fortunate that you're here."

Christ, was Maruki a fan, too? Akechi would have preferred the crowd to one-on-one ass-kissing. 

"What do you mean?" Akechi replied. 

"Well… I really wish there was a more… humble way to say this. I'm not much for theatrics. It's just that…"

Maruki sat down and tented his fingers for a moment, then reclined with a sigh.

"Perhaps you should have a seat first. Tea?"

Following Maruki's gesture, Akechi noticed the teapot on the low coffee table the man had sat behind. As indicated, there was another large chair next to it. Five more minutes. Akechi would humor this clown for exactly five more minutes before finding an excuse to leave, and by then the crowd surely would have cleared. 

"Why, thank you. What kind?" Akechi asked, sitting.

"Black. It's from England. There's biscuits as well - that's what they call them over there."

Sipping at the admittedly-quite-good tea, Akechi let out a _hmm_ that was perhaps a _mite_ too overtly disingenuous…

"I didn't want to spring this on you all at once," Maruki said, his tone slipping back into a strange melancholy. "I'm sure you're sick of prolonging the inevitable, but perhaps it was worth it if only to steel myself."

"What's the matter, Maruki-san?" 

It came out a little more threatening than intended. The more weakness Maruki revealed, the harder it was not to relish his discomfort. 

"I… I know about you. I know about the metaverse. You've been debilitating and killing people in there, haven't you?"

Impossible. Im-fucking-possible. Akira didn't know that. Most of Shido's higher-ups didn't know that. The only way he could have known was if he also had a- 

No, why would he? What did  _ he  _ have to rebel against? There had to have been some kind of mistake. A fool like that didn't deserve the power of a persona. 

"Are you talking about some sort of shooting game? I don't really go to arcades, so you must be thinking of someone else."

"Please don't do this. I can't prove any of it, but your actions directly contradict mine. The last thing I want to do is to hurt anyone, but if you keep killing…"

"Are you threatening me?" Akechi asked, feigning just a bit of fear. "I'm not even sure what you're accusing me of."

And, obviously, he wasn't afraid of jack shit. So what if this scrawny dork had a persona? The only person who could ever stand up against Akechi was Akira, and  _ he  _ had practice against some fairly hefty targets… That didn't make it any less infuriating when Akira won, but it did make Maruki seem less threatening in comparison. Having seen the disorganized mess that was the Phantom Thieves in action, Akechi was sure there wasn't a person on earth that could pose a threat without the advantage of having that Isshiki woman's research. 

Come to think of it… she wasn't the only scientist-

No time to think of that now. He had to cut Maruki's weak little power trip short.

"I don't mean to be rude, really, but I think it would be best if I left," Akechi declared, rising politely from his seat.

"Sit down."

Okay, you want to do this shit? You really want to fuck with Goro Akechi?

"What was that?"

There was no way he would be able to keep the act up in light of a direct challenge.

"I hate that I'm saying this…” Maruki sighed, “but if you value your life as you know it, you'll hear me out."

Were Akechi anyone else, he would have likely been rather intimidated by the intensity that Maruki gained all of a sudden. He was absolutely serious, and Akechi appreciated that much at least. Still, threats meant nothing to him. He would just have to find an opportunity to dispose of the good doctor on his own time. Maruki wasn't bluffing, so there was no point in playing dumb. If anything, playing along might put him in an advantageous position. Shido could do a lot, but he probably couldn’t help Akechi if he just shot an innocent school counselor in the face in the middle of the day with hundreds of students around.

"If that’s what it’s going to come down to, then I suppose I’ll let you talk,” Akechi said.

“Good. I’m glad.”

Maruki poured more tea and gestured for Akechi to sit down. Calm and innocent Akechi was gone. That Akechi could not serve its purpose anymore. It was rare for him to be able to show anyone a different face - rare and exciting. He sat.

“Speak.”

“Woah, no need to be-”

_ “Speak.” _

Maruki adjusted his glasses. 

“Yes, well, I suppose the bottom line is that I would like your help.”

“Go on.” Really, it was becoming hard to hide Akechi’s excitement. Maruki wanted his help? How deliciously stupid. Even if it was a trap, it’s not like Akechi would spend a single moment  _ not  _ ready for a fight.

“Much like you, I’ve been using the metaverse for some time now. Also like you, and like the Phantom Thieves, I’ve discovered a way to affect the  _ true  _ reality from the inside. This, however, is something beyond simple mental shutdowns or changes of heart. I believe the secret to realizing the true potential of this ability lies at the root of… that place. The manifestation of the collective unconscious."

"The cat called it 'Mementos'."

"The c-" Maruki sputtered. He started again, but there was still some confusion left on his face. "You… you mean Kurusu-kun's cat?"

"He carries it around everywhere. If you've really been to the metaverse, I'm sure you've heard it talk at least once."

"I take it you already know the identities of the Phantom Thieves, then. Is that how you figured it out?"

"No. I saw them in the other world. From a distance, of course. ...and I assume that's how you figured  _ me  _ out."

"Something like that, yes. A-anyway, that's where I'm trying to go. The root of Mementos. The heart of  _ all  _ of our hearts, so to speak."

"How poetic of you," Akechi sneered. "Fine, I suppose. You seem to have me over the proverbial barrel. If I help you, you'll keep my secret, yes?"

"I don't want you to feel as if I'm trying to blackmail you…" Maruki pondered, staring at the ceiling in thought. "Let's say this: once I've gotten what I need from this 'Mementos,' I'll give you something you want."

"Something I want? You don't sincerely plan on bribing me like some sort of child, do you?"

"I can't go into detail now, but don't misconstrue my offer as a bribe. It's not monetary in nature. Unless you truly want it to be, but you don't strike me as the greedy type…"

"Enough," Akechi snapped. "Reward or no, I won't allow my reputation to be tarnished. It's a deal, then?"

"Of course. Don't get any funny ideas about our arrangement, though. I'm not sure why you did all of those things you did, but don't think I'll drop my guard just because you  _ say  _ you're agreeing with me. I'm trying to be as true to myself as possible, but if you were to try and take me by surprise… I can't guarantee what might happen to you."

Akechi raised a skeptical eyebrow. Well, this opponent wasn't entirely stupid, but if trust was really a concern, he surely shouldn't have shown that to Akechi. There was no place for honesty in a fight like this. Hell, the  _ true  _ fight hadn't even begun, and the guy was acting like he had already won… surely if he understood the metaverse without any kind of outside assistance he must be somewhat smart. To engage an unknown opponent and then show your entire hand right away was too silly for a smart person to do. Did he  _ really  _ think Akechi would just go along with his plan just because they happened to be two of the only people on the planet who knew about the power of Personas? 

"Well, look at me," Maruki chuckled to himself. "So much for not being theatrical. I must sound like some kind of movie villain, huh?"

"Give me your phone number."

The smile disappeared from Maruki's face.

"R-right. Sure. I'll update you when I need your help. I suppose that's all I wanted you to know."

...thankfully, the majority of the student body had dissipated, leaving a clean exit for Akechi. 

_ Idiot. Peasant. To look down on me like that... _

………

Akechi supposed it made sense to look like some sort of prissy bandleader. That would be the exact thing his public self would come up with: prim, proper, and so pretentious it made him sick. He could never stomach so much  _ white.  _ One only dresses so flamboyantly in order to show off how perfect and just they think they are. Of course,  _ detective  _ Akechi would think just that.

Either way, his true self had already been exposed. There was no point in hiding the black mask. 

As for Maruki... Akechi would laugh if he didn't hate the irony so much. Standing at the mouth of the yawning abyss that was Mementos, the counselor bore an all-white suit, similar to the  _ other  _ Akechi's, if less indulgent. The only other difference from his normal appearance was his slicked-back hair. It looked like he was ready for some kind of fancy ball in an old-school movie. 

"What  _ is _ the story with that outfit?" Maruki greeted.

"Not sure."

"Mm. Well, if you couldn't guess, mine's cognitive, too. I wouldn't show up to fight in something like this."

"Let's go."

Again, Maruki deflated. "Not really one for small talk, huh? I guess I knew you wouldn't be like on T.V., but-"

"Let's  _ go."  _

T.V.? Akechi wanted to laugh. Actually, he wanted to scream. Wanted to scream at this self-important prick to shut the fuck up. Wanted to tell him how he wasn't near as smart as he thought he was. Wanted to tell him how much of a waste of time it was having to kill him when there was work to be done. 

Eh. The kill would be satisfying enough. 

If Maruki was still so gung-ho about exploring Mementos, he must not know about the strange blockades that kept slowly disappearing over time. Even Akechi didn't quite understand it, but given the whole 'collective unconscious' thing, it must have been related to… chaos. Civil unrest. With his actions and the Phantom Thieves', the public was becoming more and more irritable - the perfect circumstance to introduce Shido as a figurehead for positive change. It only made sense that the metaverse would morph to adapt the people's wills. It's not like Maruki would ever know that. 

"Alright," Maruki sighed, starting towards the escalators. 

………

Interestingly, Maruki was not as useless as Akechi had thought. Whatever strange persona he had harnessed never showed itself fully, but seemed to be equipped with a wide range of attacks, making their trudge towards the deeper levels even simpler than usual. If the guy had really been exploring on his own then it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, but Akechi wondered how he would fare as the fights became more difficult. If all went to plan, the answer would be 'not very well'.

They fought in relative silence, and Maruki seemed to have accepted that Akechi wasn't willing to act as if they were friends. That was fine. As the atmosphere thickened and the foes grew in number, there was no way the doctor would be able to keep up without help - less so if that 'help' turned against him…

Eventually, they rounded a corner to come face-to-face with a pair of cyclopean, bipedal, elephantine shadows. One was formidable enough on its own, but for there to be two made things all the more easy. 

Maruki lunged, a hazy tentacle appearing over his shoulder to spew some kind of explosive magic at one of the two shadows. The second shadow raised his sword… 

Akechi stepped back, allowing the attack to connect with his 'partner'. Reeling, Maruki turned to find that his assistant was gone. Of course, Akechi had merely snuck behind him. There was no way he could defend himself from both sides. Grinning, Akechi turned his own sword towards Maruki and swung.  _ Fool. _

-

\---..$,&= 

÷;%,?###

Rjjenjebfbf. Emetjngbd 

The tunnel was as empty as always. Akechi straddled the tracks, wearing the same brown suit he had entered Mementos wearing, his hands free of weapons. In front of him, his prey stood glaring in disappointment. 

No, 

Yes?

What?

"You almost had me convinced, I must admit," Maruki mourned. 

No, no, hold on. He was supposed to… be dead? Why? There was a terrifying blackness in Akechi's brain where the last few moments should have been. He  _ knew  _ he intended to kill Maruki, but…

Akechi stared at his own gloved hands. No, he hadn't entered like this. It  _ felt  _ like he had, but any good detective stood above their feelings to find the truth. 

"Confused? I would have told you before, but I wanted to see if you would change your ways without force. Besides, I didn't want to give my whole hand away from the start."

Was this… his doing? What was missing? What belonged in that blank space? Akechi was only human, so he  _ did  _ forget things from time to time, but the complete and total  _ nothingness _ that stood between him and the truth was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. His brain was one of the things he could always rely on. Reality. His perception of it. This was… It was impossible and supremely sickening, but… it frightened Akechi. 

"What did you do?" he wavered. "What did you  _ do!?" _

"I'll explain in a moment. Once I bring you back, things may become clearer."

Bring him… back? Wh

-

\--;$,$

,[$(&!!@[

Jfbrbrbsm rjjrieoa

Akechi's sword clattered to the ground. The ashes of the two shadows they had been fighting stained the railroad tracks before them.

He  _ didn't  _ understand. Couldn't even begin to guess. Worthless. How worthless was he? To be so wrought by fear - so consumed… he felt like a child again. The difference was he knew the truth about the world. He knew how cold and meaningless it all was. There was no bathhouse in which to escape it all, and standing against such immense power, it seemed as if he could no longer kill it away either…

That was unacceptable. This was no loss. Goro Akechi did not lose.

He leapt towards Maruki, swinging his bare fist at-

-

No, he wasn't just standing there, he was  _ fighting.  _ It didn't matter what happened, Maruki would die by his hand. 

He leapt towards Maruki, swinging his bare fist at-

-

No, he wasn't just standing there, he was  _ fighting.  _ It didn't matter what happened, Maruki would die by his hand.

"Akechi-san, please stop this."

No.

He leapt towards Maruki, swinging his-

-

"Akechi-san!"

No, he wasn't just standing there, he was-

"I'm sorry, but you have to give up."

He leapt-

-

Maybe he was just standing there. 

…

Maybe there  _ was  _ nothing he could do.

…

Akechi clenched his jaw. He was fully aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks, and each one reminded him of how much he would rather die than be where he was. Rather than to  _ lose.  _

"You finally understand," Maruki sighed. "I'm sorry if this is upsetting. The last thing I want to do is cause you harm, and I'm sure to lose control of your reality may be traumatic, or could even exacerbate existing trauma… It pains me to use my power for anything but to help people, but I'm sure you won't deny that you tried to kill me."

There was really nothing to say to that. Lose control of reality? It didn't matter anymore that Akechi didn't know what that meant. He failed, plain and simple. It was over. 

Unfazed, Maruki continued on his own. 

"This is my power. For me, reality itself is malleable. Obviously, I'm still training, and our little… scuffle took a lot out of me… but for now, I am able to modify certain aspects of our world into whatever I please."

As much as it sounded like bullshit, it lined up with what had happened. It was just… Isshiki's research said nothing about this. None of the Phantom Thieves were remotely that powerful. Why Maruki? How?

"That may sound pretty self-righteous, but I don't intend to glorify myself. I'm not in this for personal gain."

It  _ was  _ self-righteous. If he could just eliminate Akechi whenever he wanted - or turn him into some kind of pacified non-threat - why bother stringing him along? No sane person would do that for any reason other than to show off. Maruki must have  _ wanted  _ to see Akechi driven to his knees, hopeless and weeping. 

"Now that you understand, I'd like to ask you again: will you join me?"

What bullshit. It wasn't a question anymore, it was just blackmail. Akechi's options were to die by Maruki's hand or have his secret revealed, assuming he didn't want to cooperate. That wasn't any kind of offer. 

Of course he didn't want to do it. Akechi's agenda was one driven by the kind of passion that can only exist if deeply implanted within his very  _ soul.  _ His entire  _ life  _ was dedicated to showing Shido up. How could he just switch tracks when he was so close to his goal? The Phantom Thieves, the metaverse, Shido's inevitable rise to power - it was all so  _ perfect.  _ There was no giving that up.

But…

Fuck…

This man was truly powerful. He had already bested Akechi, and with that kind of power, he could make Shido look like a useless little boy. 

Akechi was still scared. That fear ate at him like vultures picking at a corpse in the desert. There was nothing to hold onto in the face of Maruki's ability. Any security he had or any solace he could find could easily be torn away, seemingly at a moment's notice.

To be weak again… 

Akechi supposed that was the true source of his fear. He didn't really care what happened to Shido as long as he could stand above the crowd. What other point did he really want to prove? No matter how mighty Shido thought he was, Akechi could kill him whenever he wanted. While the act of killing was reassuring and comforting to Akechi's fragile ego, his opponents' deaths held no true meaning besides that basic catharsis.

And there could be no killing anymore.

There was someone who was unequivocally greater than him. 

Far greater than Akira, for what that was worth. 

"Why?" Akechi posed.

"Why… join me?"

"What do you want? What's your goal?"

Maruki frowned. Surely he should have been relishing the opportunity to flaunt his master plan…?

"To end suffering."

Coming from a psychiatrist it probably shouldn't have been surprising. That didn't make it any less pathetic.

"Suffering is a fact of life," Akechi spat.

"Does it have to be?"

"You'd be a moron to think otherwise."

Infuriatingly, Maruki smiled a pained sort of smile, as if tossing Akechi's claim aside. 

"I don't believe that," he countered. "In fact, I believe I could show you. Remember my offer?"

"I do."

"I intended to give you the life you wanted - no, the life you  _ deserved. _ I'm afraid I don't know you well enough to realize that for you in any especially meaningful way, but if you'd like a glimpse, I'd be willing to show you what that might look like."

"So, what? You would just… make me a fake life?"

"For all intents and purposes, it would be quite real."

That must have been what he meant by 'end suffering'. To wrap the world up in a nice, cute security blanket.

How much hardship had Akechi faced? Rejection? Dismissal? Who was it that pulled him up out of that and into the big leagues? Not some presumptuous shrink with a bunch of delusional, grand ideas. What a waste all of those years of studying and training and killing would be if everything he wanted was just handed to him out of nowhere. Maybe he wouldn't know any better in that reality, but still…

"Never," Akechi choked. "I'll never join you, you sick fuck. I don't want your filthy hands on my reality."

Maruki sighed, then took a deep breath in. As he exhaled, his

his

his

\-------

his

\----

....

...

..

.

.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yo. Akechi. Your move."

Across the pool table, Akira stared incredulously, leaning slightly against his cue. 

"Ah, silly me," Akechi gasped. "I guess I was…"

…

Jeez, how could he just space out like that? This was a fairly critical moment. He had stripes, and was only a few balls away from victory. 

"...lost in thought."

The 11 was situated perfectly between the cue ball and the back left corner pocket, but unfortunately, the 8 was directly in the way. He had already decided (when? well, earlier, of course, but-) that no other shot was viable. Akechi leaned over the side of the table, pinning his left hand to the green felt and staring towards the right rail. 

"11 ball, that corner," he said calmly, gesturing to his left. 

With one smooth motion, he struck the white ball, driving it into the opposite rail. It zig-zagged into its target, bouncing it easily into the pocket.

Akira grunted in recognition.

Unfortunately, the last striped ball was all the way across the table, guarded by Akira's two remaining solids. Akechi could aim, but the game was just as much about strategy. If he was likely to miss or foul, he would much rather guarantee a bad situation for his opponent. 

Carefully, Akechi tapped the cue ball behind the 8. 

"Oh, you  _ ass,"  _ Akira groaned.

"That's rather unsportsmanlike language," Akechi tossed back, grinning smugly. 

Akira leaned over the edge of the table, taking off his glasses and squinting at the far rail in thought. Sure, he could make a shot on the closer of the two solids, but only a professional could do it reliably. There was no choice but to leave it up to luck. With a sigh, Akira aimed his cue.

"7 ball, the far corner."

**_Crack_ **

The cue ball flew on a shallow trajectory, hitting the right rail (despite the less-than-stellar angle, the ball was making it down the table) - the left (surely it was down to luck on a shot like this) - the right - the left (moment of truth) - and finally into the 7. 

He… actually hit it? And it was rolling towards the front right pocket!?

An evil chuckle escaped Akira.

"Impressive shot," Akechi said coldly. "I'd like to see you do it again."

Ignoring the trash talk, the other boy aimed an easy shot on his last ball, and promptly tapped it…  _ way  _ too lightly. It made contact as desired, but the target ball hardly made it to the pocket, let alone  _ in  _ it. 

"Aw, f-"

"Language, my friend," Akechi warned.

"How'd you know I wasn't going to say 'fiddlesticks'?"

"Call it detective's intuition."

Nerves were understandable in that sort of situation. It wasn't the first easy shot Akira had never missed, and why blame him? As skilled as Akira was, Akechi had the cooler head. When it was time to get down to business, he could turn all of that off and center his focus with finely trained precision. Like now:

**_Crack_ **

One down, one to go.

"8 ball, back left corner."

It happened just like he said it.

"Best of five, then?" Akira begged. 

"How about a game of 9-ball? Winner takes all."

"Takes all of what? We didn't put money on that."

"The satisfaction of beating me isn't enticing enough for you? Or perhaps you believe yourself incapable?"

"I'd get more 'satisfaction' if we just headed back to my place for the night. And you know  _ exactly _ how capable I am," Akira flirted.

"You're a fine negotiator as well," Akechi added.

………

A buzz pulled Akechi from the thin veil of sleep. He shifted in Akira's arms, yawning quietly so as not to wake his boyfriend up. There was a notification on his phone screen.

**Lunch today? Brunch? Would like to talk.**

It was his father. 

**Sure,** he typed back one-handed. He set an alarm for 9 am and snuggled back up against a still-sleeping Akira. 

………

"I'm glad we finally got an opportunity like this, son," Shido said, taking a bite of his omelet. "Your schedule is already almost as crazy as mine. Imagine that!"

"Well," Akechi chuckled, "it's worth it if it means we can help people. You know more about that than me, but…"

"Nonsense. Your case is as important as anything I've accomplished. In fact, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Is that so?"

"The prosecutor is moving forward. She's certain she can make a conviction. I thought you'd want to hear the news in person."

"It's terrific," Akechi said. 

"I see you're as modest as ever. Didn't feel like jumping out of your seat and cheering?"

"I wouldn't want to disturb the-"

Akechi looked around the restaurant and paused on a certain individual sitting in a booth opposite a woman. 

"Oh, he's having an affair," Akechi said out of the blue.

"What?" Shido asked, trying to look where his son was looking without being too conspicuous. "Who? How can you tell?"

"I can't hear what he's saying, but his facial posture and body language indicate that he's lying about something. He keeps squirming and tugging on his jacket and pants like they're unfamiliar.  _ Could  _ just be bad tailoring… The real killer, though, is the tan line on his ring finger. It would be fairly easy to cover up with some makeup or something, but I suppose he didn't think his date would notice."

"You're sure?"

"The missing wedding ring could just be a coincidence, I admit. I wouldn't come to any conclusions without investigating further, but my gut…"

"Hm," Shido grunted.

"I'm not one hundred percent sure, of course, but if I had to guess, I'd say my hypothesis is right," Akechi pondered. "...where were we again? I'm sorry. This was supposed to be about my case, and I just totally derailed us."

"It's alright. If anything, I'm quite impressed. Perhaps, given your track record, I shouldn't be."

"There's no need to flatter me, dad," Akechi chuckled. "Especially since you're buying me lunch."

"Modest as ever…" Shido sighed. "That was all I wanted to tell you, so if you had plans with your friends, don't let me get in your way."

"Oh, nothing set in stone. I was going to head back to Akira's coffee shop when we're done, but there's no rush. We should stay and talk for a while."

"Akira, eh? You should introduce me sometime."

"It's not like we're getting  _ married." _

"Sure, but you can understand why I would want to meet the lucky guy. I don't even know what he looks like, or where he's from

where he's from

where he's from

where he's from

where he's from

where he's from

...son?"

Akechi massaged his forehead hard. A strange sensation was emerging in his head - not pain or pleasure, but an odd negative pressure. He felt like he had lost track of time, which, given his famously tuned skills of perception, was highly unlikely. 

"...where  _ is _ he from?" Akechi whispered.

"What's that? Are you alright?"

"Fine, yes, I'm… You just asked where Akira was from, and… It doesn’t make sense."

He blinked, resting his elbow against the table and dropping his head into his hand. 

"I could swear that you… ...and he-"

Akechi opened his eyes. The fork he had just been eating with stretched off towards some sort of infinitely distant vanishing point. Upon closer inspection, his entire field of view was skewed off, the contents of the table creating impossible shapes that moved independently from him.

"Akechi-san?" someone asked.

...what was this? He stared at his glass of water, which flattened out into a perspective-less, cubist perversion of its normal form.

Searching desperately for an anchor, Akechi looked to Shido, who was still there, but had he always been wearing those glasses? He wore sunglasses, not prescription lenses. Actually, there wasn't a single familiar aspect about him. Akechi could focus on individual features of the man's face, but the complete picture was foggy and indistinct. 

"Akechi-san."

The sound didn't come from anyone's lips, and while it would have already been confusing for Shido to call him something so formal, it was more than obvious that the world around Akechi was not what he had always(?) believed it to be. This was too vivid for a dream and  _ far  _ too vivid to have been induced by some kind of drug, and who would have spiked his food? No, Akechi was too sharp for that. Even as his surroundings morphed and vibrated out of existence, every fiber of his being screamed  _ this is real. This is happening.  _ It was too real. It  _ shouldn't  _ have been real. 

The restaurant was long gone, the furnishings and inhabitants of which existed now only as smears of color on an empty backdrop. 

"Akechi-san."

The shadowy Shido-thing still sat somewhere in front of Akechi (if 'in front' even made sense anymore) but the sound came from right next to his ear, echoing louder and louder.  _ Real. Real?  _ All of a sudden, Akechi became very aware of his heartbeat. He palmed at his chest, choking on quickened breath. 

Louder. 

_ Where's he from? _

Akechi shut his eyes. 

_ Real. _

_ Real?  _

_ Not real. _

………

Silence. No, there was the mechanical whir of a ceiling fan and the occasional sound of distant passing cars. 

Akechi stirred. It was late, and as much as it felt like he had just awoken from a nightmare, he couldn't tell where the dream would have started and ended. It was, however, comforting to know that the whole business with Maruki was just something his self-flagellating subconscious conjured up-

No. No, he couldn't let his feelings get the better of him. Something was missing, and for some reason the sensation was familiar. To ignore that kind of discrepancy would invalidate any conclusions he could come to.

He was lying on a couch, dressed the same as when he left for Mementos, which meant that his memory up until that point was most likely valid. The room looked like the living area in some kind of cheaper apartment, and when he turned to survey the rest of his surroundings, he finally saw Maruki.

_? _

Even in his thoughts, words would not come. 

Not one of his memories was false.

“Here. I got you some water,” Maruki said solemnly, sitting next to the boy on the couch.

For whatever reason, Akechi’s first instinct was to take the glass and drink greedily, although as soon as he realized what he was doing, he remembered that at  _ some  _ point,  _ some  _ part of him was trying to spite Maruki. He was shellshocked, but he was still himself.

“First of all, I just want to apologize,” Maruki sighed. “I tried to rouse you… You found some kind of discrepancy, didn’t you? I’m sure you can understand how large-scale changes like that are nearly impossible as of right now. Erase a few memories, change a piece of someone’s identity - that’s simple enough. But if the subject’s trauma runs deeper, or if they need something  _ more _ to feel right in their own skin…  _ That’s  _ why I need Mementos.  _ That’s  _ why I would like your help. We can weave a new reality from the wishes of the entire world.”

“Discrepancy?” Akechi managed. No matter what reality was the true reality, he was becoming very tired of being one step behind - or perhaps it was more like ten steps.

“A mismatch between the quote-unquote ‘real’ reality and the one you existed in briefly. The entire thing was based around your cognition, appropriately. I can’t imagine the confusion you must have felt when you noticed it, but I couldn’t really do much about that. Such a crudely crafted reality can’t be expected to stand up to scrutiny, I’m afraid.”

“What about the rest of it? How did you know…?”

Know what? The details, of course, but Akechi didn’t want to acknowledge the details. It didn’t matter who he saw or what he did or felt, the whole thing was fake. Why should he be persuaded by something dreamed up by a pretentious, self-righteous asshole like Maruki? It was invalid. Worthless. Meant nothing. While he  _ was  _ actively avoiding any contemplation of the false scenario, learning about its creation might give some insight into the nature of the doctor’s strange persona. ...oh, what a joke. The guy could manufacture realities. There was no fighting back against that. Akechi just wanted some closure before he either fought Maruki to the death or just skipped the formalities and did the deed himself.

“If you were gonna ask about the circumstances of your reality, I’ll tell you,” Maruki cut in. Akechi nodded, so he continued. “I can influence an individual’s reality down to the specifics if the patient wills it. Obviously, I know very little about you, so I had to let  _ your _ mind do all of the work. I could have taken a peek, but I wouldn’t want to intrude on your subconscious like that. What I mean to say is that I provided the most basic framework and let your desires fill in the gaps. Again, it’s crude, and I’m sure there have been some adverse effects as far as your spatial and temporal reasoning skills, but it was the only way to show you what you could have. I really am sorry if it ended… unpleasantly."

"Pitiful," Akechi growled. "If you weren’t such a goody-two-shoes, I’d think it was some kind of half-baked attempt at torture."

Maruki heaved a significant sigh. "Perhaps I should reevaluate my approach. I just… didn’t think you would disagree so strongly."

"You put me in there knowing full well what could happen. What  _ did  _ happen. I think my reaction has been appropriate."

"Akechi-san… Goro…" Maruki said softly. "We both know I don't actually have any evidence of your crimes aside from my eyewitness testimony, a-and that was in the Metaverse, so-"

He sighed, removing his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not going to kill you. I-I couldn’t ever give you a real ultimatum. Either I convince you, or..."

"What?"

"Please, just help me. I don't want to  _ make  _ anything happen to you, and I won't pretend like it's your fault if that's what it comes to - I'm doing this of my  _ own _ volition...”

How nauseatingly ironic that the man with the indisputable upper hand would be pleading so desperately. Any reasonable man would just dispose of Akechi and be done with it. Hell, Shido wouldn't likely think twice about it. As much as Akechi resented his father, the man knew how to get what he wanted. Why mourn? Death was inevitable. And yet…

Well, Akechi didn't have anything if he couldn't live out his plan. He was probably too far gone to live a 'normal' life, and even then he didn't want to.

And  _ yet… _

Akechi had never really stared down death quite like that. He had watched it work its way down the barrel of his gun and across the edge of his sword, scattering the thoughts and wishes of countless people to the wind. Some of them understood what was coming, and few resigned themselves to their fate with any kind of dignity. He made no attempt to ignore the reality of what he was taking from them, for in truth, no two men are all that different on the inside. The simple fact was that people died every day for much less than nationwide glory or political power. Even if he killed an innocent person, a hundred more would die the next day for no reason. 

And yet, he had never really contemplated the finality of doing the same to himself. Here was the perfect opportunity. He could either give up everything to live a lie or save himself the indignity and die on his own terms. All he had to do was get out of Maruki's sight, turn his gun around, and eat a fucking bullet.

It used to seem so simple.

"It… it couldn't have all been bad," Maruki practically whispered. "You had to have seen something you wanted. What was it? Don't say it, just think about it. It doesn't have to be a dream.  _ Remember." _

_ Remember. _

It echoed in Akechi's head. His entire existence was founded on spite, and yet even that was all but withered away in the face of defeat after humiliating defeat. It didn't help that he was second-guessing his suicide, either. Whether it was self-pity or - god forbid - his conscience, some kind of feeling hung in his stomach, heavy and foetid. 

_ Remember.  _

He did. It was Akira that came first. Of course, he was always first - Akechi wouldn't be so infatuated with him otherwise. In that other place, though (and was it another time? Had that whole day really passed or was that just a consequence of that reality's slapdash construction?) the anxiety and competition of losing to him was… muted. It wasn't gone, and Akechi supposed that to remove such a major aspect of his personality was too drastic even for Maruki, but it had morphed into something less hateful. They were  _ lovers  _ for god's sake. Akechi wouldn't deny that he had, in the real world, imagined the catharsis of grabbing that showy prick by the neck and fucking his brains out, leaving him in a quivering puddle of sweat and twisted satisfaction, but that wasn't what he saw. Although the details were muddled, he  _ knew  _ he had awoken in the other boy's arms. It should have been a great indignity to submit even a little to anyone, no matter their pedigree. Disgusted, Akechi tried hopelessly to stoke that seething flame of hate within him back to its former glory. 

_ Akira's breath on his neck. _

Despicable. Worthless. Akechi would never…

_ That smug grin, warmed by the heat of true love. _

No. No, there was just no  _ place  _ for that. 

_ They had taken each other, touching and squeezing and kissing with genuine- _

Akechi let out a strange, strangled sort of noise. He was dimly aware that he was crying again. There was no escape from the idea. 

_ In that moment, their mutual desire for competition morphed into one true goal. They conquered each others' bodies, letting all of their wants and needs and uncertainties drift away in search of that ineffable, perfect unity that only lovers could find.  _

There was a hand on Akechi's shoulder, but he could no longer find it within himself to shoo it away. Then, Maruki was cradling him, gently stroking his tousled hair back into line. Akechi's head rose and fell with the man's shallow breaths. 

_ They had not stopped until they were both equally spent, their bodies tangled together and weak from the exertion. Their breath mixed as they kissed, kissed, and kissed again, indulging each other in a singular bliss, afraid to stop - for if they didn't have each other, what did they have? _

What did Akechi have? He looked up through bleary eyes at Maruki, who was staring silently back, pensive and concerned. 

That was good enough for now.

Akechi leaned into the doctor's grasp, pressing their faces together in a kiss. Despite the startled whine that escaped Maruki's throat, he softened to accept it. Emboldened, Akechi wrapped his own arms around Maruki, who showed no signs of breaking away.

Finally, Akechi had mercy, ending the kiss to view the horror upon Maruki's face.

"You didn't stop me," he whispered. 

All of a sudden, the man rose frantically, turning away and running a panicked hand through his hair.

_ "...my god,"  _ Maruki mourned quietly. Awkwardly, he turned back towards Akechi for a moment, then started for some other room in the back of the apartment. "Th-there's pillows and blankets there. Sink's over here if you want water. Goodnight, Akechi-san," he sputtered, disappearing through what Akechi assumed to be his bedroom door.

Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, Akechi laid back on the couch and sighed. 

Just like that, the game was afoot again. No man was truly untouchable. It was just a matter of finding their weakness. Besides, Akechi could get a little more out of this victory if he played his cards right. 

He couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself, the sound wheezing through his clogged sinuses.

_ Fool. _


	3. Chapter 3

With a sigh, Akechi adjusted his glove and wondered why his cognition would not manifest gloves that didn't need adjusting. Maybe that made more sense, anyway. 

"You beat me here this time, Akechi-san."

"You're easily impressed," he spat back. 

"Hello to you, too," Maruki chuckled without even a hint of resentment. "I know how you feel about small talk, so shall we begin?"

"Let's."

………

Come to think of it, it was rather intriguing watching the man fight. Whereas the Phantom Thieves each bore a characteristic sort of passion even disregarding their personae, Maruki never stuck out as someone with any kind of axe to grind. Sure, he had his weird, creepy plan, but in everyday life? The guy seemed like a total pushover. It was curious, then, that he'd ever been bestowed with such power. If he was hiding some kind of darkness within him, he hadn't yet let it show. Given the nonchalance with which he thrust Akechi into a malformed nightmare, perhaps he was simply deranged. Delusional. 

In any case, the guy could fight. He didn't even bring a _weapon,_ instead opting to use his fists on the shadows that showed resistance to either of their elemental attacks. Akechi watched him, enhanced by the power of his persona, lean into an armored, monster-like shadow and cave its head in with a single punch. More than anyone, Akechi knew that a stable man could not deliver such a blow. 

His savagery was almost admirable. 

But why? What drove him to such an extreme?

Before he could come to a conclusion, Akechi heard the buzz of flapping insect wings - and was it uncomfortably close, or was it far away and uncomfortably _large?_

He spun, reaching for his holster. Just as the barrel cleared leather, he was struck in the chest with an arcing bolt of electricity, the sound of which could have easily been mistaken for a gunshot. He stumbled back, steadying himself against the wall, and it was then that he saw Maruki. 

The man had gone completely stiff, his legs and back tensed and fully extended as if wrought with rigor mortis. The only part of him that moved were his eyes, which darted from the beast to Akechi. From what little expression his face muscles could manage, it seemed as if he didn't see much difference between the two. Seeing as he didn't summon his persona, it seemed likely he _couldn't_ do so… meaning that his powers were...

Sure, Akechi could kill him. He certainly wouldn't feel any remorse. But this was a _game_ now. Invoking the ire of Shido wasn't even a little bit of a concern anymore, and that used to be the only reason Akechi did anything with any degree of care. Shido or no, this whole thing with Maruki had the potential to be a lot more fun and maybe a lot more messy than just ending it as soon as he could. 

Besides, it was already fun to see such mortal fear in Maruki's eyes. 

Akechi aimed his pistol again and took the top half of the moth shadow's head off. Satisfied, he traipsed across the tracks over to Maruki's supine body. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, squatting.

"Been… better," Maruki huffed. "Thank you… for asking."

"Hmph."

………

"You've never seen it before?" Akechi wondered aloud. 

They stood before a stone wall engraved with some sort of sacred-looking geometry. 

"All of that power and you've never made it this deep…" Akechi chuckled. 

"Well, it _is_ dangerous to be alone down here. If you weren't there to save me…"

"Yes, well, we have a deal."

"You can't pretend to be cold, Akechi-san. You saved my life."

"If a carpenter's tool is on the verge of breaking, do you think he would repair it?"

"I… I suppose?"

"And, supposing the tool _did_ break, do you think he would mourn its loss as if it were a human being?"

"Akechi-san…"

Perhaps it was overly performative to say something so utterly inhumane, but this was _Akechi_ we're talking about. It wasn't so much about putting Maruki down as maintaining the attitude that Akechi was used to. Whether or not he would admit it, it was simply comforting to feel one step ahead - or perhaps above - even those who were undeniably ahead of _him._ This even manifested in his seemingly unfaltering alliance to Shido, as the idea of turning on the man who found him useful was exciting enough to push him through every fake promise. This arrangement may not have been much different, but Maruki had already seen every piece of him, so the nice-kid front just wasn't necessary. _You can't fix me, no matter how much you want to._

"Nevermind that. If you want to get deeper, we have to get past this," Akechi refocused, gesturing to the wall. 

"Right."

"I've seen them open over time. It's always after a high-profile Phantom Thieves confession."

"Interesting. So… perhaps it's tied to some sort of civil unrest? As spurred on by... the collapse of our traditional power structures?"

"Awfully wordy for a first guess, but I can't think of anything better."

Maruki tapped his foot. 

"Maybe… maybe I could influence the public's…" he pondered. "No, that's beyond my reach."

"If the pattern stands, then the next confession should lead us further."

"Mm. I'm not sure if we can really put any more spotlight on _them_ without revealing ourselves…"

With a sigh, Maruki pressed his back against the wall and slid down onto his butt. 

"Giving up?" Akechi prodded.

"Not exactly, but…"

"They're targeting a prosecutor next - a higher up in the SIU."

"Really?"

"Yes. They're more under control than the media would lead you to believe."

"And how do you know all of this?"

"Is it that important? Once you get what you want, it won't matter."

"True."

Looking down on the man, Akechi could tell he was occupied with far more than the task at hand. There was a lack of focus in his eyes, which still occasionally looked up inquisitively at the detective as if asking a question he didn't have the guts to pose out loud. Akechi recognized the look. He took a step towards the wall and sat next to Maruki. 

"Akechi-san… may we speak candidly for a moment? If anything’s outside of your boundaries, feel free to refuse."

“I don’t have anything better to do.”

If anything, it was an understatement. After all, one should get to know their prey before putting anything at risk. 

"How have you been? Emotionally, I mean. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I've caused you any more trauma."

"I'm fine, although you probably wouldn't think so."

"No?"

"I gain satisfaction from accomplishing goals. While I will admit the occasional indulgence in life's baser pleasures, my motivations aren't much more nuanced than that."

"So… you don't value interpersonal connection very much. Have I gathered that right?"

"Depends on the person, depends on the connection."

"I suppose that's fair enough," Maruki mumbled unsuredly, and his deflated expression made it obvious that Akechi's responses were not what he was looking for.

"Why do you ask?"

It was obvious, really, but Akechi was sure that forcing the question out would likely whittle down whatever willpower was holding the man together. He would not allow Maruki the advantage of turtling up inside of his comfort zone; being a counselor, he was adept at talking others through and around hard questions, but even that was not enough to render _self_ reflection simple.

"Why did you kiss me?"

Bingo. Squirm, Maruki. Squirm. 

"You're actually concerned about that, are you?" Akechi sneered.

"I-it was just somewhat strange, a-and I feel as if my response was inappropriate, so if you've got some kind of… _romantic anxieties,_ I'd be willing to discuss that with you." Maruki desperately sputtered. "I _am_ trained for that sort of thing."

"Romantic anxieties? Am I the one who seems anxious right now?"

"I didn't mean to accuse- ...um-" 

Akechi's idea of 'cute' was somewhat different from what would be considered conventional. Sure, he could appreciate the appeal of, say, a kitten on _some_ level, and could even mildly sympathize with those who were innately drawn to 'cuteness' - Akechi was disturbed, but he was still human - but the things that softened what was left of his heart had (obviously) slightly less wholesome roots. 

Maruki was getting there. His unwavering commitment to the futile cause of 'rehabilitating Akechi' was exactly the right kind of earnestly pathetic, as were his flustered attempts at communication. All of this was compounded by the potential of his reality-bending powers. Seeing a man with that sort of capability act like a scared, confused animal was just the right kind of perversely delicious.

"Do you want me to explore my feelings,“ Akechi hissed, ”or is it perhaps _you_ that would rather do the..." He slid his fingertips up the back of the man's neck to emphasize the final word. “...exploring?”

"I'm… afraid you've misunderstood my intentions."

Squeamish or not, Maruki was a pretty good liar. Of course, Akechi already knew the truth, so that wouldn't sway him. Daintily, he nuzzled against Maruki, placing his lips on the man's neck. 

Then there was a foot between them.

Leaning against thin air, Akechi scrambled to catch himself from falling. 

"I can offer plenty of support," Maruki said, "but to cross _that_ line would be very unhealthy, I feel. Besides, I have an interest in improving the lives of _all_ of my patients. Maybe you misconstrued that for something more."

Interesting. So he _was_ willing to use his powers. That didn't mean Akechi was going to let him off easy, though. 

"I'm not sure what there is to misconstrue," Akechi hummed, crawling over to close the gap between him and Maruki. "You _did_ kiss me back."

"I-I made a mistake-" Maruki stuttered, eyeing Akechi's hands, one of which came down to meet the ground dangerously close to Maruki's thigh. The boy was leaning in again, intentionally letting his breath fall upon Maruki's neck. "I-it isn't right-"

Akechi kicked his leg over a seated Maruki, straddling the man and pressing their bodies together. He pulled Maruki's bottom lip between his own, and he could have sworn he felt something other than rejection for the brief moment before he was distant again. 

Before Akechi could decide whether or not he wanted to launch a third assault, Maruki rose to approach him. He reached into the inside pocket of his coat, and although Akechi's instinct was to devise a defense against whatever weapon was being drawn against him, the thing turned out not to be a weapon at all, but a small plastic pouch of some kind of snack. Maruki tipped the open end towards Akechi. 

"A-almonds?" Akechi asked, almost as shocked as when reality collapsed around him. 

"Have some. Take a deep breath," Maruki instructed. "It's a good snack. Sometimes I worry I'm gonna kill the whole student body with the sheer volume of cookies I give out…"

Akechi considered slapping the bag away, watching the good will drain from Maruki's face as his precious little snack scattered across the floor. He was amused that even after such a major paradigm shift, he was still policing his actions for the sake of some higher goal. Case in point: Maruki was far too defensive to make use of his romantic weakness at the moment, but if Akechi didn't ingratiate himself _at all,_ his eventual betrayal wouldn't be as sweet. Besides, he needed the guy to trust him at least a little.

He slipped a gloved hand into the bag, popping a few almonds into his mouth. Maruki just had to _think_ Akechi liked him. As long as he kept the _act_ up…

"I was in love once," Maruki continued, completely derailing Akechi's train of thought. "Her name was Rumi. She was… taken from me." He slipped the snack back into his pocket. "There's still some part of me that- ...let's just say that even if I didn't think becoming involved with you was wrong, I still wouldn't be willing to do it."

"Is that how you deal with all your patients? Try to distract them with a snack and a sob story?"

"Akechi-san, I'm serious…"

"No," Akechi shot back, standing up to stare the man in the face. "You're just lucky I like almonds."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ow the edge

"Well? Don't waste my time."

_That smug fucking tone._

Akechi clenched a gloved hand until he could feel the leather stretch.

Across the room and behind an _insultingly_ decadent desk sat Shido, alternating between scribbling various notes onto a legal pad and clicking intently at a laptop. With some disdain, Akechi noted Shido's insistence in wearing his stupid sunglasses even indoors. 

"Everything is going according to plan," Akechi ensured. "The Phantom Thieves are weakened - they'll eat my little suggestion up."

Shido's pen fell against his paper.

"Then why are you here?"

"Sir?"

"That was a five-second phone call's worth of information. I have you here for five _minutes._ Do you know what a minute of my time is worth?"

"Ye-"

"Do you _know_ what people _do_ just to be _acknowledged by me?"_

"Yes, sir, b-"

"Then why are you here?"

Silence filled the room. It was a fair question, as far as Akechi was concerned. It wasn't the first time there was little to report, and in the past he had indeed opted for a simple phone call over an in-person meeting. Given his excursion into that fake reality, it makes sense that Akechi would lose track of his responsibilities. Even through all of his hatred, however, it still surprised Akechi that Shido could be as spiteful as he was. If anything, it was a welcome revelation, only further justifying Akechi's hunger for revenge. No matter how derailed he had been by recent events, he still held fast in his desire to lead Shido to a painful end.

"Niijima. Her so-called palace. You're making progress?" Shido snapped.

 _This_ was bad. Shido wouldn't kill Akechi anytime soon - he wasn't prime minister yet, after all - but what _would_ he do knowing that his errand boy hadn't performed to spec? Even if he was in an excuse-taking mood, there was no way in hell he could know about Maruki. That crazy fucker might bring the whole world crumbling down just to defend himself. 

"I haven't found it, Shido-san."

Finally, Shido looked up from his desk. 

"So you have nothing?" he wondered. 

Akechi nodded. 

"Your television appearances and publicity events have been _precision_ tailored to allow you _ample_ time to carry out your obligations to me. I have spent my own time and money on you, boy. You are so incredibly, unbelievably lucky to be useful to me. So why, after all this, have you decided to disappoint me?"

"I-"

Akechi was not a bullshitter, and he knew all too well that he should not present his artificial self as such for Shido. 

"I have no excuse," he settled on. 

Shido rose, his jaw muscles standing out for but a second. He spoke as he crossed the room. "Stand."

Akechi did. For the brief moment they stood eye to eye, Akechi's performative fear seeped into his true self. 

Then there was a hand on his throat. Shido's thumb ground relentlessly into his larynx, and he involuntarily let out a desperate cough. 

"You're a very lucky boy, Akechi-chan."

Inside and outside, Akechi squirmed. 

"I've been _so_ busy lately. I'm almost glad to have a reason to punish you," Shido hissed, running his other hand up the boy's shirt and groping at his chest, "...but five minutes just isn't enough. I've got important things to do. You understand, don't you, Akechi-chan?"

Akechi nodded a panicked affirmation, staring into the man's glaring eyes - there _was_ nowhere else to look. The groping hand travelled up the back of his neck and pulled threateningly tight on his messy brown locks.

"And if I make time for you to come and see me later, you wouldn't _dare_ to tell me no, would you? You know just how _lucky_ you are to have an opportunity to please me, don't you, Akechi-chan?"

Another nod. Every second without air stretched into what felt like minutes, compounding upon the shame Akechi felt at his own fear. 

Finally, Shido dropped him into his chair and turned back, returning to his work. 

"Then get the fuck out of my sight, you worm."

………

Well, that was fucking stupid. Akechi knew Shido through and through, how could he have let that slip? All it would have taken was a phone call. Now, he wasn't about to let himself be perturbed by a little bit of abuse - he had suffered enough of that to be numb to even the most savage threats - but to make such a simple mistake was inexcusable. Akechi wasn't sloppy. Intense and impulsive, yes, but he knew his limits. 

Any normal person would, in light of what Maruki had done, probably not be so hard on Akechi for slipping up. 

Instead, he sat on his bed, fondling his gun. 

He thumbed the safety back and forth. Pulled the slide back just enough to see the round chambered within. Dropped the magazine into his hand, counting and recounting to make sure it was fully loaded. His thumbs traced the hard metal contours of the front and back sights. He stared down the dark barrel, appreciating what he could see of the rifling. His index finger tickled the trigger, _daring_ it to go off.

Then he placed it on his desk, stripped it, cleaned, oiled, and reassembled it, and started fidgeting again. 

According to the clock, it had been more than forty minutes.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking _stupid._

Something had to die, but it still couldn't be him. 

………

Akechi was thankful for whatever twist of fate gave shadows their almost human personalities. Almost all of them, confident or not, feared death. If they didn't, killing them might as well be like swatting flies. There wasn't much thrill in killing something that didn't understand what it meant to be killed. In that way, Akechi supposed he did appreciate life. 

He had been fighting alongside Maruki to reach a goal, and, seeing as the 'fighting' part was merely tangential to said goal, he had not allowed himself to really fall into the act itself. Perhaps one might argue that he was, even after revealing his true nature, still tempering his depravity in front of his new companion, but god knows that wouldn't have been his excuse.

Now there was nothing stopping him. He ignored his persona almost entirely, instead favoring his sword and gun. He plunged into their hearts, spraying ash and blood across the murky halls of Mementos. Each downed shadow was another execution, their pleas validating every swipe of his blade and turning each red splatter into another prize. 

Akechi bathed in their death, that otherworldly blood staining his hair and mask and dripping down onto his face in thick rivulets. It ran across his body and off of his hands, shaking with every adrenaline-filled step. 

It took him a moment to realize that he'd reached the final escalator. To be fair, he'd never strictly timed himself, but there was no way he could clear that many floors in what _felt_ like a few minutes. He heaved a sigh and stepped down onto the escalator, just for fun. Dripping fingers slicked back stained, sticky hair. 

…

"Akechi-san!?"

_Fuck._

Even in the dim light of the subway platform, Maruki's white suit stood out. Before Akechi could even think about turning and sneaking away, the man was scrambling to his feet and bounding towards him.

"Oh my god, Akechi-san, that's- there' _so much-_ ...you're _bleeding-"_

"No, I'm not," he clarified, pushing Maruki away and leaving a red handprint on his chest. 

"What- what's going _on?_ Why are you here? What did you _do!?_ "

"I could ask you the same."

"Yeah, but I'm not the one _caked_ in _goddamn-"_

Maruki paused, shut his eyes, and sucked in a big breath, which he exhaled with a slightly theatrical hand gesture. 

"I-I'm sorry if I got a little intense," he restarted. "I didn't mean to freak you out-"

Behind his mask, Akechi raised an incredulous eyebrow. 

"I just mean… _trying to be calm, here, uhm-"_ Maruki mumbled. He unsubtlely glanced at the mark Akechi had left on his suit, and his hands fidgeted aimlessly in discomfort. "...I was just thinking about the door, so I came back, and-"

Chest still heaving, Akechi interrupted. "Take another breath, doc."

He did.

"I've seen you fight. I thought you had a stronger stomach," Akechi taunted. 

"I…" Maruki began, clearly running through the following sentence in his head, "...feel uncomfortable when you say things like that."

"Can I make it up to you with a hug?" Akechi offered, outstretching his wet arms in a V and inadvertently whipping dribbles of red from his fingertips onto the concrete below.

Maruki took a reflexive step back at the movement, and Akechi laughed openly in an untamed chain of almost childlike giggles. The adrenaline was still fresh in his veins, so there was no way he could resist the temptation of toying with the man.

"I would _really_ just like to talk about this, b-but not while you're all covered in-"

"Trying to take me home again, are you? I would think a shrink like you should know better than to send so many mixed messages."

"I-"

Still fairly blood-drunk, Akechi wanted to:

 _Make fun of Maruki for being such a pussy. He could turn Akechi into a vegetable with a snap of his fingers, but_ **_nooo,_ ** _he doesn't want to use his powers like that._

_and_

_Force himself upon Maruki again. He envisioned himself first lapping up as much blood as he could off of his hands and arms, and then plunging his stained tongue into Maruki's mouth, forcing him to share._

...but he was plenty aware of how unhinged he had already become. Perhaps if he proved himself to be beyond help, Maruki really _would_ nut up and trap him in some kind of alternate reality until he could enact his plan. 

"...no, you're right," Maruki sighed, defeated. "Even if this relationship is… unconventional, that doesn't mean we shouldn't maintain a certain level of tact. I-if there's a weekday where you have time, why don't you swing by the school around 4 or 5? I feel like it would be better for both of us to convene in a more, _uhm,_ professional, comfortable environment. ...contact me, okay?"

Akechi, slowly regaining his usual sense of self-awareness, could only chuckle. Apparently, Maruki _did_ actually have some mental fortitude after all. Sure, he was probably trained to keep a straight face and professional attitude with even the most problematic patients, but it was probably safe to wager he'd never had to deal with anyone who was hot off the heels of a rage-fueled killing spree… Akechi would have been proud if it all wasn't so silly. 'Why don't you swing by and pay me a visit in a more comfortable environment' sounded a lot less sober when offered to a boy covered in gore. 

Still chuckling, Akechi turned back towards the escalator without a reply. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> skimmed this one it seems pretty cool i'd give it like a 3.5 out of 5 or something bro cheers :)

The shimmering jingles of myriad slot machines clattered together in a disorienting cacophony. If casinos in real life were built to function as money-siphoning labyrinths, then Sae's palace was fairly accurate. Grouped together loosely, the Phantom Thieves carefully snooped around the brightly lit floors. 

_"Hey, bro."_

Akechi turned to see the blonde boy with the skull mask beckoning him to the back of the group. Their first venture into the casino was tense and truncated, so Akechi hadn't had much time to ingratiate himself to the hapless thieves. As such, everyone but Akira seemed unwilling to strike up any kind of conversation with the newcomer (and while he and Makoto were already acquainted, he was not surprised at her silence). It was therefore all the more surprising that he was being pulled aside, and by… Sakamoto. From past reconnaissance, Akechi already knew plenty about him, but he could never figure out why Akira would rely on someone so _prodigiously_ stupid.

 _"Yo, um… I just wanna say I'm sorry if I ever shit-talked ya, man,"_ the boy whispered. _"I guess even if we're like, rivals or whatever, you seem like a nice guy, so… I dunno, um- ...you know what I mean."_

"I see," Akechi chirped. _Rivals? I don't give a shit about you peons - Akira's the only one who matters._ "Thank you for saying so, Skull-san."

"C'mon, we're _thieves,_ homie. 'Skull''s fine."

"Ah. In that case - thank you, _Skull,"_ Akechi smarmed. Predictably, Ryuji cracked a dopey grin. _Moron. One minute you're at my throat and the next you're pawing at my legs like an excited puppy._

 **"Better quit flirting,"** Futaba's voice crackled through the air. **"We got two shadows about to round that corner."**

Akechi pushed to the front of the group, laying his hand on Akira's shoulder. "Let me have this fight," he demanded. "I would like to prove my worth to your friends."

"Show em' what you got," Akira affirmed with a smile. 

For some reason, his acceptance was deeply annoying. Obviously it would have been annoying to have been denied - after all, Akira knew one way or the other that Akechi could handle it on his own - but there was something presumptuous about the Thief's little smile. What, was he poking fun at Akechi's request? Implying that Akechi just wanted to show off? Did Akira think _he_ of all people was above something like that? _Don't act like you know me, you little bitch._

Before long, the time for speculation was over, and the aforementioned shadows - two humanoid leopard things, each with a pair of swords - rounded the corner. Seething, Akechi clenched a fist around his weapon. _I'll show you fucking weaklings._

 _"Intruders!"_ was all the first one could yell before Akechi was across the floor, rearing back to put his momentum into one big thrust of his energy sword. The blow connected squarely with the leopard-man's stomach, melting cleanly through it. 

As quickly as it had been attacked, the beast spun. Not only did the force of its movement wrench Akechi's hands from his weapon - which stayed lodged inside the enemy - but it also used the opportunity to bring the hilt of its own sword down on Akechi's temple with a stomach-turning _thud._

Akechi reeled, stumbling flat onto his back. As he recovered, he noticed a few things:

The first shadow had backed off and was trying to pull the sword out of himself.

The second one was rushing in for an attack.

A phantom thief - Takamaki, he thought - took a step forward only to be held back by Akira, ever-bemused.

Akechi rolled, swiftly dodging the blade that was falling towards him. With a showy flourish, his persona hurled a bolt of shimmering, white energy at the shadow, which immediately crumbled into ash. Still trying to un-impale itself, the other shadow looked up to catch a panicked glimpse of an accelerating Akechi.

Hunkering down, Akechi sent his shoulder into the shadow's waist, driving it off of its feet. As it landed on its back, the impact forced the sword back out of its body, and Akechi snatched it before it could fall over. Wrapping both hands around the hilt, he forced the blade back down into the shadow's chest. He grunted, rising only to plunge down into the shadow yet again, and again, and again…

Panting, he rose to his feet and turned back. Varying degrees of concern spread across the thieves' faces, and all at once Akechi became gravely aware of what he had just done. Sure, the act of _killing_ was never going to be particularly elegant or graceful, but Akechi's reputation was one of intelligence, not violence. The 'tv' Akechi would have assessed the situation from a distance, strategically prodding at the shadows until he could find an opening. He would not have rushed in sword-first. 

...but why didn't that happen? Akechi's persona - literally - _never_ slipped. He only ever 'lost his cool' in controlled bursts of lunacy, and only ever in the safety and isolation of Mementos.

 _"Heh,_ ehm…" he mumbled. "I don't think I'll be bowing after a performance like that."

A few indistinct mumbles escaped the crowd before him, choice among them being:

"W-well, you got em', that's for sure," from Sakamoto, who peered cautiously at the disintegrating body of the remaining shadow.

 _"Hmm,"_ from Kitagawa.

And curiously, "It was rather, um, exciting," from Okumura. 

Without warning, Ann stepped forward, finally free of Akira. "That was a heck of a blow," she lamented, reaching out towards Akechi. "Come here."

With his crowd-pleasing instincts returning, Akechi obliged her, though his jaw involuntarily clenched at the very thought. The girl gently placed her hand on the side of his head, and a warm, glowing feeling passed from her into his sore skull, erasing the pain. He wanted - no, _needed_ \- that pain to go on. Needed that drive. And this bitch was taking it away, acting as if it would help him. She was so beautiful it was almost grotesque; Akechi couldn't help but hate that his body was telling him to be attracted to her. The genuine concern in her eyes sickened him, and he wanted nothing else but to clamp his hands around her throat, if only to watch that concern morph into fear. 

So he forced a smile.

"Thank you, Panther-san."

She smiled back. "Don't mention it. ...and, really, just the codenames are fine, if you want."

How these degenerate pigs could function with any success was a mystery to Akechi. They really were just a band of clueless children, too pure for the world and _far_ too pure for him. The issue wasn't at all that they were comfortable with informality - Akechi had no affection for the bootlicking 'respect' that their society demanded of everyone - but that they were so… optimistic? That was one way of putting it. They actually believed themselves to be helping the world, when in reality, each of their targets would likely be replaced with someone either just as bad or worse. Akechi didn't kid himself into believing that his eventual revenge on Shido would do _anything_ to help anyone but himself, and after all, that was a personal grudge. 

"Alright, let's keep on trucking," Akira declared. "You get anything from that, Oracle?"

**"Well, that one attack he did was definitely on the money. If we run into another one of those, attack its weak point for massive damage!"**

_"Nerd,"_ Ryuji scowled.

**"Ridge Racer! Giant enemy crab!"**

_"Neeeerd!"_ he cried out, and everyone turned to glare at him.

 _"Skull,"_ Makoto scolded.

"Aw, c'mon, it's not like anyone's gonna hear me over the- ...I mean-" Ryuji stuttered, awkwardly glancing at each of his teammates. _"Sorry…"_

Akechi was beginning to understand that there was no limit to the depths of his disappointment. 

………

"Alright, this floor's all mapped out," Akira decided. The group, having explored a winding series of maintenance hallways, found themselves back at the entrance for that area. "You guys want to split up and look it over again?"

An awkward, yet affirmative murmur rolled through the group, and Akechi assumed with mild amusement that, given the thieves’ normal conduct, he was the cause of their discomfort. While _that_ might have explained some of what he noticed (Sakamoto rolled his eyes, Okumura clasped her hands contemplatively, and Takamaki sighed audibly), there was no reason for Makoto’s perpetual scowl to have faded into a _blush of embarrassment._

Before things could get any more awkward, Morgana hopped ahead of the group, and with a smirk, declared, “I’ll be going it alone again. I don’t need anyone getting in the way of my natural sleuthing instincts,” before bounding away confidently. As if it was some kind of cue, the group started to slowly disperse. Even the subtle whirring of the Necronomicon faded off into the distance. Although… a third of the team hadn’t moved an inch. The aforementioned Sakamoto, Takamaki, and Okumura all stood looking just as annoyed as they had that previous moment.

“Jesus effin’ christ, I can’t believe he even did it with _you_ around,” Ryuji spat, gesturing at Akechi.

Before the detective could express his confusion, Ann butted in, whining, _“Skull!_ He doesn’t have to know- ...well… I-I mean-”

“Know what?” 

Suddenly, Ryuji cracked a crooked smile, chuckling to himself. _“Oh man, this is so awkward. What did he think was gonna happen?”_

Her face reddening more deeply every second, Ann turned, unwilling to respond. Though Haru had been quiet for more or less the entire time Akechi was near her, she seemed to be the only one with the guts to say what was on everybody’s mind but his. 

“The others are… making use of the Metaverse’s isolation for… _romantic_ purposes.”

For the first time in a while, legitimate surprise seeped up through Akechi’s facade. “I- ...th-they’re-”

“They’re _fucking,”_ Ann huffed, her arms crossed and her eyes fixated on some indistinct point in the corner of the room.

“Whoooa. F bomb,” Ryuji noted flatly.

“You’re kidding me,” Akechi pleaded.

 _“Pssh,_ I wish,” Ryuji sighed back.

“For the love of god, _why?”_

“I guess it’s easier than tryin’ to sneak past their parents. Well, most of their parents are dead, but-”

_“Skull!”_

Ann full-on punched Ryuji in the back, and he cried out. As he spun to reprimand the girl, his eyes fell upon Haru.

“O-oh… Ahm, I- ...I-”

“It’s okay, Skull,” she preempted. “Even if it was… _clumsy,_ you were merely stating a fact. I know you wouldn’t joke about such things.”

Meanwhile, Akechi had been responsible for more than one of those deaths. The poetry of that fact was not lost on him.

 _“That’s ‘cause he only makes dick jokes,”_ Ann grumbled to herself.

Ryuji sighed and turned back to Akechi. “Anyway, uhm, yeah. This whole thing started a month or two back. We’d all been pretty tectonic-”

_“Platonic,”_

“-the whole time we were doin’ thief shit, but then we all start noticin’ Joker n’ Queen gettin’ a little closer than usual. Hangin’ out alone more. Nobody ever said nothin’ about it, and one day Joker just decides outta the blue to ‘split up’. Thing is, we ain’t never done that, and once we been through a floor or a buildin’ or whatever, there really usually ain’t any point in goin’ back. Top that off with the fact that he _always_ paired up with Queen, and they _always_ ran off without even tellin’ us how to pair up or where to go or what to do… you do the math, homie.”

“Ah, well,” Akechi wavered, his voice practically trembling under the effort it took to not either yell or hit someone. “That’s… interesting.”

“Yeah, then eventually Fox n’ Oracle started doin’ it, too. We didn’t even know they were datin’.”

 _“God, I hope he treats her right,”_ Ann worried to herself.

“Oh!” Haru cut in suddenly. “As for Morgana, he’s not doing anything like that, nor has he figured out what the others are doing. ...he seems to just enjoy, um, acting heroic. ...I suppose.”

“To think the fate of the nation is potentially in your hands,” Akechi let slip, immediately regretting the tone he had taken.

“Damn, bro. I dunno if that’s what we're goin' for. I mean, we just fight bad dudes or whatever… right?" Ryuji wondered, looking at his teammates, and neither of them seemed to be in a talkative mood.

"Yes, of course," Akechi recentered. "You know how cautious I am when it comes to the implications and consequences of this sort of thing."

Ryuji hummed in dull agreement, scratching his thigh. No amount of conversation was making the situation any better. Obviously, Akechi wasn't concerned with anything as trivial as awkwardness, but could still hardly fathom that the people who were more or less his only threat were willing to goof off to such an extent that they were _fucking_ in the _metaverse._ There was no doubt in his mind that they would be unprofessional - they were just a bunch of teenagers, after all - but this was just on another level. Besides, _sex?_ Was it that important to them? Akechi begrudgingly admitted to himself that the idea of a sexual relationship - one where both parties were _willing,_ mind - sounded somewhat pleasant. He even imagined the act itself from time to time, as, despite everything, he still had that drive. The truth of the matter, however, was that there was no likely way he would feel comfortable giving himself up to anyone like that. An image of Akira from Maruki's reality flashed in his head, and he bit down on the side of his tongue. 

These morons. Not only did they piss Akechi off just by being who they were, they had him standing there thinking about fucking _sex_ of all things. Worst of all, if Akechi just stayed where he was, there wouldn't be anything to kill any time soon.

"Hey, yo, um," Ryuji spoke up, nudging Ann with his elbow. "Since the others are off doin' stuff, you maybe wanna-"

"You're an idiot," she countered. 

"C'moon, we don't hafta do nothin' crazy, just, like, a kiss, or-"

"A pathetic idiot," she decided. 

By that time, Akechi was already halfway out of the room.

………

Was killing less satisfying lately? It started as a trifling little doubt tucked away in some silent corner of Akechi's mind, and over time, morphed into a self-aware joke, but worryingly, never disappeared after that. To some extent, it was one of the few things that tied Akechi to the average person's idea of 'fun', and while he did enjoy games and sports more or less just like other people, he just did not have the same kind of passion for, say, billiards. That said, even after his last venture into Mementos, he was left feeling distinctly unsatisfied. Was it too easy? Maybe. A life-or-death situation isn't so exciting without the threat of, well, _death._ ...but he got _excited_ at plenty of things. That wasn't what his fixation was about. 

Aimlessly, he strolled the back halls of the casino, welcoming the challenge of any shadow that might show itself with no concern for stealth. Despite his best efforts, no shadows - no fights - could be found.

_"Fuck!"_

A thud. 

_"Carefulcarefulcareful!"_

_"You must-_ **_ngh-_ ** _hold still!"_

_"Ohmygosh- I can't!"_

Well, it seemed that Ryuji had been telling the truth. Passing by some sort of small control room, it became very obvious that a couple - Kitagawa and Sakura, from the sound of it - were inside. 

Akechi smiled, and then forced the smile away with considerable effort. _This_ would certainly cure his boredom.

He reached for the handle.

Yusuke's outfit was unzipped, drooping from his waist to reveal his bony back, glistening slightly with sweat. Propped up against a desk at the back of the room, Futaba saw the intruder first. With an inhuman, high-pitched squeak, she scrambled for her jumpsuit, which was draped over the back of a nearby chair. In the process, she inadvertently kicked Yusuke a few times in the chest, alerting him to Akechi's presence. 

"Oh! Oh my goodness!" Akechi gasped, feigning surprise. "I'm sorry, I thought…"

Futaba slid off the desk and onto the floor. Having caught ahold of her jumpsuit, she haphazardly covered as much of herself as she could and curled up into a tight ball, whimpering. Yusuke did glance at Akechi, but he seemed to be far more worried about the state of his girlfriend. Without fixing his clothes, he crouched down.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," he said quietly. "I'm sure he finds your body as beautiful as I do."

Futaba wailed. 

Defeated, he rose to address Akechi, again opting not to so much as _touch_ his zipper. He turned towards the detective, his softening genitals on full, unabashed display. And, yes, Akechi _did_ look.

"Our apologies," Yusuke pleaded. "This seems rather inappropriate, I'm sure. I pray that you sympathize with our situation."

"W-well," Akechi stuttered, "it's really none of my business… I'm sorry for, _erm,_ intruding." 

"It's quite alright."

 _"No, it's noooooooot!"_ came a cry from the floor.

And, just like that, Akechi was back through the door. 

It wasn't _that_ funny. Sure, it was entertaining to so thoroughly mortify the Sakura girl - and the alternative of putting up with the constant jabbering of Sakamoto and Takamaki was unbearable to imagine - but it was immediately obvious that whatever Akechi had begun feeling as soon as the door shut was not satisfaction. If anything, he was disappointed. Or mad? What _was_ he feeling?

Oh well. Perhaps it would fade by the time Akira came to round everyone up and go home. Besides, the Phantom Thieves had been knocked off of the top of Akechi's priority list, so whatever happened between them was really just an afterthought. 

Still… 

No, no, it wasn't important, whatever it was. Akechi thought again of the saccharine camaraderie shared by his foes, and whatever had been bothering him faded away - or had it just been pushed out of his focus? No one should be that happy. No one should trust anyone so deeply. It was stupid. Inane. Impossible. He hated it. 

And meanwhile, Akira was somewhere else getting pussy.

Not like the 'sex' part was what bothered him, but-

Ah, fuck it. As was said, this was all pretty meaningless anyway. Whatever downtime was left was surely better spent thinking of ways to torture Maruki than traveling down _that_ dead-end road. 

Sighing, Akechi headed back down the hall.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's pure, abject filth and I hope you enjoy it

Maruki was right about one thing: it was _much_ easier to make it through Shujin after class was out. A small victory, Akechi assumed, seeing as he still had to stomach the company of his unwanted partner for god knew how long. At best, Akechi might be able to get into the guy's head a little more, but his last slip-up made him much more cautious, and he assumed Maruki would be, too. It was easy to manipulate someone who was unaware of their own mental pliability, but a shrink...?

Well, it would be better than checking in on Shido. Probably. Akechi quickly weighed his prospects, and decided that he'd rather have an hour or two of boredom and annoyance than a sore ass and vomit-inducing amounts of shame.

He pushed the office door open without knocking. The doctor was hunched over an open filing cabinet, leafing through papers, and at the sound of the door, he turned. 

"Hey, Akechi-san."

"Maruki-san."

"Just a moment," the man muttered, shoving a folder into place and sliding the drawer shut.

"Lose something?" Akechi yawned. 

"Just sorting things. Helps me relax. Do you have anything you like to do to relax?"

"I'm sure you don't consider killing to be a 'healthy coping mechanism'," Akechi shot back.

"N-no. I'd like to talk about that, but first… how are you, Akechi-san?"

"Fine," he replied, smiling warmly in an attempt to nonverbally communicate just how fucking _stupid_ he thought a question like that was. 

"I'm glad. Take a seat, kick back. Tea? I got more earl grey."

...fuck it. It was good tea.

"Sure. Thank you," Akechi said, reclining into Maruki's sofa. 

Maruki poured two cups and sat down across from him. 

"I'd really like to just talk honestly, okay?" Maruki sighed after some consideration. "I'm not accusing you of lying about anything, and given our past interactions, I suppose I can't blame you for not being very open with me, but I'd like for that to change - if you're willing."

"What difference does it make?" Akechi asked, fully aware of how the question contradicted his entire acceptance of Maruki's offer. 

"Most of all, I hope it may provide you with some catharsis. Aside from that… I still don't feel comfortable with our arrangement."

"Oh?"

"I-in fact," he declared shakily, "if it would open things up between us, I'll share some of my feelings with you. Okay?"

"Share away," Akechi sighed, sipping from his mug. 

"I-" Maruki began, and he plucked his glasses from his head to nervously clean the lenses against his coat. "I feel angry at myself for what I'm doing here. I shouldn't mince words or lie to myself: I'm holding you hostage."

Maruki's eyes told Akechi that he was being entirely genuine, and the boy wasn't sure what to think. On one hand, it was a self-admitted attempt to foster some kind of rapport, but it wasn't just some made-up line of bullshit. Something like that would be hard for the average person to admit, and Akechi knew it. Still, it was a show of emotional vulnerability, and Maruki _had_ to know Akechi was still trying to find a way out of their deal. Why take that risk?

"But you _must,_ yes?" Akechi guessed.

"You hit it right on the head, I'm afraid. It was idiotic to think I wouldn't run into trouble when I started all of this… but I've made my peace with it."

"So, if I stopped cooperating, you surely wouldn't hesitate to…?"

"I won't _kill_ you, or anyone… but I no longer have any anxiety concerning what it would take to keep you in line."

Akechi almost smiled. It had been a while since Maruki had said anything so cold, and some part of Akechi's brain couldn't help but be viscerally excited at the threat. 

"Good," he decided on, his face set in emotionless stone. "It's about time you quit being such a pussy."

"I'm glad you appreciate my honesty," Maruki replied, ignoring the insult. "I feel a little better about it, now that I've told you. Anyway, it's your turn. I'd like to know about the other night, but if you would rather choose a different topic, it's up to you."

Oh joy, it was Akechi's turn. Sarcasm aside, this was the perfect opening - he just needed to decide on a strategy. First he had been dismissive, then he was deranged (though _that_ was more bad timing than anything)… Now, Akechi felt like a sob story was in order. A good tug of Maruki's heartstrings might open him right back up again, and then… who knew?

"It's satisfying. Killing, I mean. Is that too obvious?"

"Not at all. Is everyday life _un_ satisfying to you?"

"That's a fine way to put it. I _am_ happy with my reputation, but the baggage that comes with it is more than a little tiresome. Besides, it's like I said before: I don't look directly to others for approval. I do what I do to prove my worth to myself."

"Is there _anybody_ you care about?"

_Akira's fingers intertwining with his, a soft murmur-_

Akechi pushed the false memories away. 

"No," he decided. 

"Well," Maruki sighed, straightening his glasses, "I suppose we can work on that. Companionship can be very emotionally fulfilling if you let it."

As he planned his next move, Akechi came upon a question he actually wanted answered. A short detour couldn't hurt. 

"There's plenty of bad people out there. Murderers, thieves…" he refocused. "Why have you spent so much time on me?"

No matter how sentimental Maruki was and no matter how much he wanted to be a hero, it really didn't make much sense. The guy wasn't trying to be a vigilante, and if his concern was preventing death prior to reshaping reality, Akechi wasn't the right target. His human victims were hardly worthy of sympathy, as most of them were tied up somewhere in Shido's web of corruption. There were brothels in town that chewed up and spat out innocent young girls on a scale vastly greater than anything Akechi could accomplish. 

"Because you're using my research," Maruki said matter-of-factly.

Akechi unconsciously shifted. "I am?" spilled from his mouth. 

"Well, it's _mostly_ Isshiki-san's, credit where credit is due. We wouldn't be here if you hadn't killed her."

Now wasn't the time to let surprise show through. Akechi should have guessed that Maruki was involved in cognitive psience somehow, considering his immense power. On top of that, Maruki had admitted to witnessing at least one of Akechi's crimes, and if anybody could pull their focus away from the baffling mechanism with which people were being killed, they would realize quickly that the shutdowns were not only connected but politically motivated as well. 

"So, what? You feel responsible for me?" Akechi accused without missing a beat. 

"Unfortunately, yes. How Akira and his friends figured it all out, I have no idea, but you…" Maruki paused, massaging his temples. "I put a gun in your hand, and now I'm taking it back."

"You're being theatrical again, Maruki-san," Akechi smirked.

"Yes, I suppose so," Maruki sighed, a pained smile briefly crossing his face. "Where were we?"

"Companionship. Satisfaction."

"Ah, yes." Maruki kicked one long, slender leg over the other and sighed, squinting in thought. 

"Just _say it,"_ Akechi growled, and Maruki snapped out of whatever trance he had momentarily been in. "You should know by now that I'm not as vulnerable as the children you wrangle."

 _"It's good practice,"_ Maruki mumbled. "If you really want me to cut straight to the point, tell me about your parents. Are they involved in your life? Do you have any kind of relationship with them?"

Oh, that was _too_ easy. Akechi had pretty much _trained_ to whine about his childhood. Away from the prying eyes of TV cameramen, he could even throw in some bonus feel-bad fun facts just to unnerve Maruki that much more. 

"My mother was a whore. I was forced to leave whenever she had a client, so we rarely spent time together. She gave me up to a foster home after a number of years, and I'm not even really sure-"

Shit, evidently he had practiced the whole 'acting choked up' thing a little too well. Maybe it was just nerves. No, no. He was probably just used to it. He blinked away the feeling of tears, swallowed, and continued. 

"I'm not sure who she is or what she's doing now, nor do I care," he continued. "And my father…"

_I'm glad we finally got an opportunity like this, son._

No. _Fuck you._ That wasn't fucking **_real._ **

Once more, Akechi tried to center himself. Even pretending to be so weak as to cry over something he had long since dealt with was infuriating and embarrassing. 

"My father violently rapes me every time his secretary gets his coffee wrong," he spat out.

...

 _Fuck._ That came out so… clumsily. What did he even want it to sound like? Sarcasm? Some kind of weird, edgy brag? Even though his dismay was supposed to be for show, he seemed to have mixed up his personalities in the panic. Oddly enough, it felt like it needed to be said like that, which was stupid. What did it even accomplish? He just ruined the whole tone of his tragic story. There was nothing useful about hearing those words put so frankly, no matter how true it was. 

Predictably, Maruki's brow furrowed a bit, and Akechi watched his chest rise and fall just a little faster than normal. 

"I'm…" Maruki said, running a hand through his hair. _"That's not some kind of joke, is it?"_

He wasn't asking, but begging. Begging for Akechi to be fucking with him. 

Which made it really easy to fuck with him. 

"Would you like to see the bruises?" Akechi asked. 

"N-no, I-"

Ignoring him, Akechi unbuttoned his jacket and pulled the sleeve off over his glove. 

"Akechi-san, this is _really-"_

Akechi glared, testing the doctor's conviction. _Do it. You can stop me, so do it._ He reached up to the button at the top of his shirt.

"I think it will be rather cathartic," Akechi pondered. "That _is_ what you want, right?"

"Yes, but-"

The more buttons he unfastened, the more his collar slid away from his neck. A large, pale purple mark arced across his throat.

 _"Jesus,"_ Maruki whispered, unconsciously gripping his armrest. His eyes wavered, darting away and back to Akechi as more buttons came off. 

There were more marks, each healed to a different degree and creating a sickly spectrum of purples and yellows. Down, down they traveled from his neck to his shoulders and across his chest.

"My _god…_ I'm-" Maruki choked. "I'm so _sorry…"_

Akechi rose, tugging the shirt the rest of the way off of his gloved hands and letting it flutter to the ground. Whatever he was about to do or say was up to instinct. While his public face was crafted and practiced before he was even famous, he could still rely on his talent for improvisation, even if it seemed to be slipping for some reason. The ever-changing character he put on for Maruki (and that's all it was - just another part of the game and _nothing_ more than that) was mostly a creation of that very talent. Surely, then, it shouldn't have been surprising just how naturally every reply came to him. 

He stepped around the coffee table and lowered himself onto Maruki's lap. The man stared up at him, eyes tracing his every move in wordless horror. Akechi's hand found Maruki's wrist, urging it upwards. Maruki's jaw fell slightly open, but he seemed to lack the will to force out any words. Guided by the boy, his hand came to rest upon a deep purple splotch covering a portion of the right side of Akechi's chest. 

Akechi pressed down on Maruki's hand, sending a dull throbbing pain blooming across his chest. He hissed, looking the doctor in the eye. 

"You care about me, don't you?" 

Maruki nodded solemnly.

"Then you're the only one," Akechi whispered. 

Boom. Picture perfect. It was such a convincing delivery of such a sappy line that even _Akechi_ could have believed it. No victory laps yet, though - it was time for the final test. 

Akechi plucked Maruki's glasses from his face and tossed them over onto another chair. Combing his fingers into the messy hair on the back of Maruki's head, he leaned in. 

Maruki's head jolted to the side, but Akechi hadn't been transported away or changed at all. Either Maruki was lying about toughening up, or his libido was beginning to overshadow his better judgment.

 _"Goro."_ he snapped. "I can't let you do this. I know it's what you want, but in the long run-"

"Then fix it," Akechi commanded. "Once this is all over, you can make both of us as happy and healthy as you want. What's the alternative? Would you really rather 'keep me in line'?"

Maruki refused to make eye contact.

 _"You want it,"_ Akechi whispered.

 _"Forgive me…"_ Maruki mumbled.

"Hm?"

"Not you."

Surprisingly, Maruki was the one to move, pressing his lips against Akechi's. His hands travelled to the boy's back, splaying across the unseen wounds there. Bare skin slid across bare skin, and Akechi replied by hooking his index finger into the knot of Maruki's tie and working it loose. Continuing his aggression, he pushed his tongue into the man's mouth. Maruki _squeaked,_ girly and pathetic. 

As he explored Maruki's mouth, Akechi pulled the man's shirt open, tugging at his coat and collar and sleeves until he sat bare with a pile of white cloth at his waist. Maruki's tongue began poking at his, little nips giving way to more confident swipes, their saliva dribbling messily down each other's chins. 

Akechi withdrew slightly, licking the man's face across his jaw, up his cheek, and flicking over his ear. Maruki whimpered, but the assault did not stop as Akechi continued peppering him with little mocking kisses. 

A gloved thumb hitched into Maruki's lower lip, pulling his mouth open. Just as Akechi intended, he wrapped around it, pulling the digit into his mouth and sucking.

"Your cock," Akechi ordered. "Out. _Now."_

As Maruki obeyed, Akechi did the same, shifting a bit to pull his pants to his knees. Maruki was already hard, and Akechi didn't bother hiding the joy that _that_ particular fact brought him. He let his hips back down, pressing them into Maruki and sandwiching their shafts together. 

Still wet with spit, Akechi's hand wrapped around their cocks and squeezed. 

"G-Goro-"

Akechi seized a handful of Maruki's hair, silencing him. Their shafts ground against one another as he began stroking them, and just to make the doctor squirm again, Akechi licked another wet line up his face. 

"How do you feel, Takuto-kun?" Akechi mocked. "Is this satisfying? Emotionally fulfilling?"

 _"Please don't make fun of me,"_ Maruki whimpered, his voice wavering as he fought the urge to vocalize his pleasure.

Akechi stopped a stroke at the top and pinched, grinding the heads of their cocks together in a circular motion. Maruki lost his fight, a filthy, defeated groan humming from his throat. 

"You've wanted this from the start, haven't you?" Akechi growled, pecking and licking and nibbling all along the doctor's neck. "You've been _dying_ to fuck me. Or maybe…"

He scooted backwards on Maruki's lap, separating their throbbing erections. Maruki sighed in a contradictory combination of relief and disappointment. 

"Maybe that's not what you want at all," Akechi smirked, still groping at the doctor's desperately twitching cock.

He shifted, freeing one of Maruki's legs so that he could pull the man's pants all the way off.

_"G-Goro! P-p-please-"_

_"Quiet."_

With both hands, Akechi dragged Maruki forward in his chair, tipping his hips back and sending his legs into the air. He knelt, staring up Maruki's bare, twiggy body. With one hand, he began massaging Maruki again, sliding up his shaft to squeeze the head and back down to grope at his balls. Working up as much saliva as possible, he spit into the other hand and moved to slather it onto Maruki's pert asshole, which was already winking and clenching in panic.

"Maybe you _actually_ want _me_ to fuck _you?"_ Akechi pondered aloud.

 _"I-"_ Maruki grunted, though he didn't continue. 

Even though his spit had already begun to thicken and dry on Maruki's porous skin, Akechi roughly shoved a finger inside of him, and quickly followed it with another.

Maruki cried out an unintelligible syllable, and then, _"-hurts, it hurts-"_

_"Then stop me."_

Akechi wasted no time accelerating, thrusting his middle and ring fingers into Maruki's clenched asshole up to the last knuckle at whatever speed seemed to make the man squirm the most. 

Amidst all this, Akechi found himself legitimately enjoying all of the moans and pained grunts of his companion. To finally be able to dominate and debase an older man - especially one with such unfathomable power - aroused him to the point where he wanted to skip right to the end… but he was not so uncharitable as to deny Maruki his pleasure. After all, he knew what it was like to be used up and tossed aside like a worthless fucktoy. No, it was far more erotic if he could make Maruki _enjoy_ being used. 

Still mercilessly stretching Maruki open, Akechi leaned in and wrapped his mouth around Maruki's cock, shoving it into his throat. He drew back with a gag, but gave a little glance up at Maruki as if to say _'I know what I'm doing.'_ Wasting no time, he forced his head back down onto Maruki, an unkempt thicket of black hair tickling his nose. He trembled, forcing back another gag. 

_"D-don't-"_ Maruki whimpered.

Fiercely, Akechi withdrew from Maruki and stood up.

"I _told_ you to _shut the fuck up._ This is the last time I'm going to say this: if you want me to stop, then **_fucking_** **_stop me."_**

The only response was a sheepish look. 

"Alright, then," Akechi settled on.

Satisfied, he spat another glob into his glove and re-lubricated Maruki's hole, rubbing the excess into his own cock. He bent down, lining himself up with-

 _"No- N-not yet- I-I'm sorry, but I'm not ready for-"_ Maruki sputtered.

Akechi calmly pulled off his glove - the one with which he had been fingering Maruki - and shoved it into the doctor's mouth. 

Maruki let out a muffled whine, which intensified the moment Akechi thrusted into him.

Akechi rocked his hips, driving them into Maruki with a steady rhythm. His naked hand jerked wildly at the man's cock, which tensed and trembled incessantly. The whines and cries continued, indistinctly vibrating through the desecrated leather. 

_"Much better,"_ Akechi grunted. _"You feel amazing, Takuto-kun."_

It had been quite some time since Akechi had sought legitimate sexual gratification, and while he could already feel the distant beginnings of his climax, he wasn't about to end the fun so soon. 

For a brief moment, he considered what he was doing to Maruki, but quickly shooed the thought away. It was ridiculous to fret over the cruelty of anything he had done, as not only was Maruki _technically_ in control of the situation, but he was also (hopefully) going to die at the hand of Akechi anyway. If Akechi was just going to kill him…

When was the last time Akechi had thought about _that_ plan? All this time spent 'getting in his head'...

It was not the time for retrospection. The man was turning to rubble in Akechi's hands, likely hurtling towards his own orgasm as well. The only thing as exhilarating was perhaps the taste of blood.

Akechi stroked and fucked faster yet, his hand squeezing and stroking Maruki's stiff length with no regard for sensuality. He was daring the man to cum, begging him to erupt in his hands, blasting his pathetic load all over himself and sending his mind crumbing away into a dysfunctional pile of mush. 

_"Do you want to cum for me, Takuto-kun?"_ Akechi hissed, his own speech stunted by little grunts of exertion and groans of ecstasy. 

Maruki nodded, eyes full of something that wasn't entirely pleasure, but wasn't entirely fear. Satisfied, Akechi tugged his ruined glove from the man's mouth.

_"Say it."_

_"P-please- Goro, I- I want to cum_ **_so bad,_ ** _please-"_

Perhaps it should have been embarrassing to be turned on by something so pitiful, but Akechi did not second guess his own instincts. Maruki's desperate plea was _supremely_ erotic, and it stirred within Akechi a strange blend of emotions. Here was a man he had manipulated, broken, degraded, and defiled, and yet… yet he was _begging_ for more. Akechi's euphoria was not just his own, but was being shared. For all the second thoughts and escape attempts, Maruki was _willingly_ succumbing to his circumstances, allowing himself to be punished, and in search of what? A simple orgasm? That was just a biological function, and he could take care of that himself. No. He wanted something more - some kind of perverse yet deeply rooted _connection_ that allowed such mistreatment to coalesce into one singular moment of pure, thoughtless, primal bliss.

It was so wonderfully savage. 

As if to affirm Akechi's philosophy, Maruki cried out, his hips seizing spastically and his cock spraying load after load onto his own belly. 

Akechi didn't feel the need to hide his satisfaction as he came inside of Maruki, allowing himself to moan alongside his partner, his throat filling with sounds of unabashed pleasure. It was a gift. If Maruki was willing to do all of that, he deserved to see Akechi stripped bare and vulnerable.

His legs weakened, Akechi stumbled back into a sort of kneeling position, which happened to put his face near eye level with Maruki's now slightly slack asshole. A tiny pearlescent dribble of Akechi's load peeked out, and in one final act of filth, he leaned in to retrieve it with his mouth, allowing the liquid to leak out onto his tongue. He crawled up the chair, and despite his exhaustion, Maruki turned his head to meet the boy's gaze. Their lips met, and Akechi allowed some of the liquid to slide into Maruki's mouth. One cum-soaked tongue teased the other, and for a long moment, both of their bodies lay very still.

Akechi slid to the floor and grabbed Maruki's coat, mopping up the mess that had been left on the doctor's belly and tossing the soiled garment into the corner of the room. Even still, Maruki lay silent, his labored breath slowly returning to normal. 

There was something different about what Akechi was feeling. That much didn't surprise him - his past sexual experiences came from a much different place, even his infrequent forays into masturbation - but now, he didn't think he needed to push Maruki any further, at least for the time being. The man's submission was… impressive? Fun? Akechi couldn't pin it down. At the very least, he didn't feel as if he needed to fake anything in front of Maruki. Perhaps that was it: he'd pushed his opponent into a tight enough corner that such deception was unnecessary. Perhaps.

"Thank you for your time, Maruki-san," he mumbled, and he was sure those were the wrong words.

"W-wait," Maruki begged, forcing himself upright and fumbling for his clothes. "You're not just going to leave, are you?"

Akechi stopped buttoning his shirt. "Say what you mean to say," he ordered. 

Maruki frantically fastened his pants and stepped closer to Akechi. "Come home with me. I-if you're looking for a better environment, or-"

"Sure."

"Re- I- ...really?"

"Sure," Akechi affirmed. "But don't try and tell me it's for my sake."

"I… I realize you're nothing like any of my other patients, but… I really don't want you to think I'd be so irresponsible as to do something like this with any one of them. It makes me _sick_ to think…" He sighed, adjusting his posture. "Anyway, I've ruined any prospect of our relationship even resembling that of a doctor and a patient. I _can't_ give you that kind of help. I'm far too weak. But if I can make you happy until my plans are through…"

Akechi wrapped his hands around the doctor's back.

"Come on then, Takuto. Take me home."

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this absolute legend https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyonface drew some fanart for this chapter
> 
> peep it   
> https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/86711478  
> https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/lyonface/crazy

"I hope you didn't expect things to be different," Akechi sighed. 

"I can only do so much theorizing at home," Maruki sighed back, already sitting against the impenetrable wall. His spiffy white suit seemed faded in the dim light of the train platform. 

"And you can do jack shit down here."

"I don't appreciate your pessimism."

"Don't think I don't want to make the best of the situation," Akechi smirked, crawling closer to Maruki. 

"Oh,  _ fuck me,"  _ Maruki groaned, a hand sliding up his pantleg.

"How appropriately Freudian of you."

"Freud was a cocaine-addicted quack," Maruki grumbled, pushing himself into the wall away from the encroaching hand. "It's neither scientific nor considerate to read into something like that."

"Officious prick," Akechi chuckled, groping his way up the man's hips and onto his stomach, thumbing his coat open.

"Glass houses," Maruki warned. 

"Ouch!" Akechi gasped sarcastically, pulling the man's sleeve off his arm. "Was that an insult? From  _ you?" _

"S-sorry. It's not that I've given up on you, but I already told you I can't pretend to be your doctor anymore. Not since we crossed that line."

"Not since we  _ fucked,  _ you mean." Akechi tossed Maruki's coat aside and lifted the man's arm, shoving his face into the man's armpit, which was slightly damp from the exertion of fighting through Mementos. He fondled the growing bulge in Maruki's pants, taking in deep breaths of the doctor's musk.

"You… really get off on that?" Maruki wondered.

"What can I say? You smell good, Takuto-kun," Akechi answered, nuzzling Maruki's chest. "And there's no point in pretending you don't like indulging in your own filth."

"I let you do what you wanted last time - for your sake. That doesn't mean I liked everything about it."

"But you didn't do anything. Didn't say anything…" Akechi crooned, continuing to undress Maruki, who despite showing no outward signs of interest, was erect and throbbing through his dress pants. 

"If you could just  _ try  _ to be a little more… tender…?"

Without a reply, Akechi finished stripping Maruki's torso and dove back into his now-bare armpit, eagerly running his tongue across the sweat-matted hair. 

_ "Jesus christ,"  _ the doctor sighed. "I guess that's a 'no'."

Akechi had slid onto Maruki's leg, straddling it and grinding his own erection into it.

"Don't you just want to drop all of the goodie-goodie bullshit sometimes?" Akechi asked, tracing a line of saliva from the man's underarm to his nipple, teasing it erect with his tongue. 

_ "No."  _ Despite his negativity, Maruki cradled Akechi's head against his chest, purring softly at the stimulation. "What I  _ want  _ is to make you feel cared for. ...but if letting you use me is what it takes to-"

"Oh  _ shut up."  _ Akechi shoved two fingers into Maruki's mouth, stroking his chin with his thumb. 

All of a sudden, a thin, distant whir wafted above the rumbling ambience of the train platform. It wouldn't have seemed unusual if it weren't for what sounded like voices echoing after the whir died off. Akechi put the pieces together, scrambling for Maruki's discarded clothes and latching onto his arm. He tugged in the direction of the side of the platform. Thankfully, Maruki seemed to understand, and he allowed Akechi to pull him off of the platform and onto the tracks. 

_ "The Phantom Thieves?"  _ Maruki whispered. 

_ "I'd be surprised if it were anyone else." _

_ "Have you ever seen a train run along any of these tracks?" _

_ "I don't… think so,"  _ Akechi pondered.

_ "God damn it…" _

"Sheesh, I guess we shouldn't be surprised," a peppy female voice echoed.

"This shit's gettin' to be a real pain in the ass," someone agreed. 

"If anything, I would say this impasse is a fine excuse for a little respite, no?"

As the crowd above them mumbled in agreement, Akechi and Maruki shared a wince. God knew how long they would stay, and given that they had someone specifically assigned to navigate, if they had any hope of being undetected.

_ "Can't you do something about this?"  _ Akechi hissed.

_ "If I have to." _

_ "Then what the  _ **_fuck_ ** _ do you think-" _

...was there much point in panicking? If Akechi was found out, all he had to explain was the different suit. It wasn't like he was the only black-masked persona-user. Maruki would be more troublesome to rectify… but none of that was life or death. No, there was a much greater use for the situation. 

Akechi shoved his hand into the front of Maruki's pants, gripping onto his half-erect dick.

_ "W-what- are you fucking  _ **_crazy?"_ **

_ "'Crazy', huh? That's not very clinical language." _

Hands grabbed at Akechi's forearm, but there was really no good way to dislodge it. All Akechi had to do was rock his wrist to grind his palm against Maruki.

"Anything different here, Oracle?" 

Akechi paused. Fun was fun, but he knew Futaba could find them if she was looking for  _ people.  _ They might not even have had a  _ chance  _ to hide. Akechi would rather not have had to escape through another one of Maruki's slapdash realities. 

**"Nope.avi. You kiddos get comfortable, I'm having a soda."**

Quietly exhaling an unconsciously held breath, Akechi shot a devilish look at Maruki and continued his assault. Surprisingly, the man gave in, laying his bare back flat against the cold, dirty steel of the tracks beneath them. Soon, Maruki's pants were at his knees, and Akechi hovered over his half-hard cock.

_ "Good boy,"  _ Akechi whispered.

_ "Fuck you." _

...Akechi wished he would laugh. Had he already broken Maruki? For all he could tell - and even if his detective skills were padded by many a manufactured murder, Akechi was quite good at seeing through people - Maruki's usual optimism was not a mere front, nor was he truly confrontational in any capacity. Nothing turned Akechi on more than hearing him let loose like that. 

Akechi forced his head down onto Maruki's cock, the tip of which ground against the back of his throat.

**_One._ **

Akechi had been choked plenty of times, and in situations where making a scene was dangerous. One cough - one gag - would be enough.

**_Two._ **

Maruki was fully hard now, throbbing down the back of Akechi's tongue and jostling his uvula. Calmly, Akechi squeezed Maruki's thigh, relaxing the muscles in his throat.

**_Three._ **

Akechi's nose was surrounded by Maruki's unkempt pubes, and a faint, sweaty odor crept into his nostrils even though he could not inhale. 

**_Four._ **

"So…" came Ryuji's unmistakable voice from above. "Anyone see any good movies lately?"

_ "God,  _ you're crap at small talk." That must have been Ann.

**_Five._ **

Akechi's body was wracked with a hypoxic tremor.

"Oh, um," came a timid voice, "I actually did see an American thriller the other day. It was about a killer who disembowels his victims and leaves behind pieces of-"

"Noir, no offense, but  _ please  _ don't talk about creepy stuff when we're down here…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

A sigh.

**_Six._ **

Gripping tighter now, Akechi focused on keeping his head down. 

**_Seven._ **

Reflexively, he tried to swallow, his body refusing to let him fight the urge. The cock in his throat tensed at the stimulation and nearly made him do it again. 

**_Eight._ **

Akechi wasn't sure what his record was - he never kept count - but why not shoot for the stars?

**_Nine._ **

His body shook again, and the pulse against his tongue was becoming impossible to ignore. He lightly rested his teeth against the base of Maruki's shaft, trying to relieve some of the pressure in his jaw. 

**_Ten._ **

Disoriented thoughts crept into his head, and he was suddenly aware of how slow his heart rate had become. 

**_Eleven._ **

Akechi's body forced him to try to swallow one more time, and just like last time, the thing in his mouth twitched.

_ "-gh-" _

Akechi jerked away and coughed once. 

Maruki was glaring at him, and there was far more anger in his eyes than fear. 

From above:

"Joker, you alright?"

"Hm?"

"Oh, nevermind then. I thought I heard you- ...yeah, nevermind."

With a smirk, Akechi leaned back down. A hand pushed his head away, and he looked up to see that Maruki's expression hadn't changed. A second attempt was similarly rebuked, this time with one hand tugging at his mask.

Akechi drew his dagger and laid the tip against Maruki's abdomen.

The doctor relented. 

Still holding his knife just barely against Maruki's skin, Akechi forced his head down again, far more violently. This time, however, it came back up just as quickly, and down again just the same. Maruki's foot tapped against his side, and his body fell back against the tracks. His thin belly rose and fell rapidly, pressing dangerously against Akechi's blade. 

Spittle dribbled messily from Akechi's lips, and while he was making plenty of noise, he was sure the deep, rumbling ambience of Mementos would cover it up. 

Coming up for breath, he ran a gloved finger up Maruki's desperately throbbing shaft, gathering saliva. As he forced the cock back inside of him, he pressed that same finger into Maruki's ass, driving his fingertip mercilessly against the doctor's prostate.

"We about done here, Joker?"

"One sec, I'm organizing my crap.  _...too many life stones…" _

Akechi viciously stroked Maruki with his throat, forcing himself open and savoring the taste. It could only have been better if Maruki had the balls to thrust into him - his neck was getting sore. 

All of a sudden, there was a sharp inhale from Maruki, and a tapping at Akechi's shoulder. Undeterred, he continued sucking. 

Maruki flexed inside of him, and a spurt of cum hit the back of his throat. With some difficulty, he descended one final time, and as more and more of the doctor's thick load painted his esophagus, he pushed his tongue out to tease Maruki's balls, which tensed with every tremor of his orgasm. 

"Alright, let's head back, guys."

As the chatter and footsteps above him faded away, Akechi sheathed his dagger and let his head fall upon Maruki's stomach. The both of them gulped at the distinctly un-refreshing air of Mementos. 

"Why…?" Maruki groaned. 

"Hm?"

"What was the  _ point  _ of that? I-" the doctor stumbled, not once lifting his head off of the rails. "...I let you have me, and still you push and push and  _ push." _

"Don't pretend I don't make you feel amazing," Akechi threatened, crawling up Maruki and planting a kiss on his neck. "You're not a victim here, Takuto, you're a participant."

With a sigh, Maruki gently pushed the boy off of him and pulled himself up onto the platform. By the time he had plodded back over to the wall and placed a palm upon it, Akechi was already close behind. 

"...at least you're not denying the truth," Akechi settled. 

"That doesn't mean I like your attitude. I hope someday you can prove to me that this is all worth it for more than just sex. There's something inside of you that cares."

"We'll see."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets weird(er)  
> Shame the game never did much with the literal Lovecraft deity they put in there, but it would be too tonally weird for persona. At least mainline smt is more adventurous

A charming little four-piece was shuffling their way through some classic standard, and Akechi debated with himself whether he'd rather hear Autumn Leaves for the umpteenth time or be subjected to the pseudointellectual noodling of a group of avant-garde, mode-obsessed music nerds… No matter how conventional, he was fine with relaxing to the former. There was nothing wrong with a well voiced major 7. 

His eyes darted from the pianist to Akira, and he wondered just how much his rival was picking up on.  _ "Glass houses,"  _ Maruki had said, and Akechi was starting to wonder if he was right. 

But fuck that, what did his opinion matter?

As the saxophonist pushed a flashy, conclusive lick through his instrument, Akechi took a sip of his water. There was no way he'd do something as pathetic as ordering some kind of virgin kiddie-cocktail - hell, he wasn't particularly interested in real booze as it was. 

The crowd clapped softly, and Akechi turned to Akira. 

"Thoughts?"

"Very pretty. These guys are good."

"Mm. I haven't seen them here before, but that pianist sounded very natural over even the flashier changes."

Akira flashed a dopey smile. "...yeah, I thought so, too."

_ Dumbass,  _ Akechi thought to himself.  _ I don't even play an instrument. What the fuck am I saying? _

"So," Akechi began, "what was it that you wanted to talk about?"

"We're ready. This Friday. Are you in?"

Akechi hummed contemplatively. Work was not in the way, and shirking his academic responsibilities had long since become routine, but…

"I… I may have to tend to other obligations."

"It doesn't necessarily  _ have  _ to be Friday. We'd be better off with you, y'know. I'm no statistician, but based on past experiences, I'll bet we're gonna have to fight Niijima-san's shadow."

"I know. If you weren't constantly showing me up, I might not let you go without me."

"Hey man, I don't  _ try  _ to show off or anything. It's not like I brag about beating you to my friends."

Fuck him.  _ Fuck  _ him. Not a show-off? Akechi couldn't believe that shit. Fuck the Personas, he wanted to take Akira right then and there. How well did experience in the metaverse translate to a real-life fistfight? Could Akira really keep up?

All at once, Akechi realized how impressive it was that he had been able to ignore the false memories of-

_ Fuck.  _

Just as quickly, those memories came rushing back. Impossibly, he  _ knew  _ Akira's touch, and some part of him had been rewired to accept that. He should have caressed Akira's hand and laughed away their petty feud, appreciating their frank, intimate relationship. 

Akechi's stomach turned, and he very much wanted to leave, if not to vomit. 

"Let's agree to disagree," he forced through gritted teeth. 

"A'ight."

So nonchalant… he didn't  _ deserve _ to treat Akechi like a friend. 

...although it was Akechi that had befriended  _ him. _

_Fuck!_ God _damn_ it all to _hell._ This was _bullshit._

"Hey, if you don't mind…" Akira asked out of the blue, "is it work? School? What?"

"What?" Akechi snapped perhaps too forcefully.

"Why you haven't come with us lately. If you'd rather not say, I understand. I am sort of prying."

"Ah, well-"

There was no reason not to just say he'd rather keep it private. There was nothing Akira needed to know about Maruki. 

But for some reason, Akechi hesitated. 

It would be more than a little entertaining to throw Maruki into the churning conflict surrounding the metaverse. Instead of working from the shadows, he would have to contend with two rival factions. While the Thieves would not capitulate to Shido and vice versa, would they both realize the threat of Maruki's power and band together against him? In the chaos, Akechi could likely do whatever the hell he wanted.

...which was what, exactly?

Anyway, perhaps Akira could leverage his relationship with Maruki and reach some kind of compromise? No, probably not. It had taken Akechi weeks of abuse to get Maruki to budge at all, and even then, the doctor had shown no signs of changing his plans. A more positive approach could bring different results, but Akechi had thrown away any chances of that fairly quickly, and not because he wanted to, but because he underestimated his opponent.

Akira didn't need to know anything. Akechi had his loose plan. There was no reason to deviate just because he cared about Akira. 

...that wasn't- 

Bad word choice, Akechi thought. Nothing more.

Nevermind. 

"It's just work. Nothing special," he claimed. 

"Okay. Call me if that changes, yeah?"

"You really want me around?"

"Of course I do."

Boy, did that sound pathetic. It was weird - it came out very naturally, but in hindsight, Akechi couldn't decide what it was meant to accomplish. No part of him, real or fake, needed pity. 

"I don't mean to bail on you or anything, but I can't stay for another set," Akira sighed. "This just wasn't the sort of conversation I wanted to have on the phone, y'know?"

How silly to have made time for Akechi like that. It was stupid, really. Surely Akechi wasn't that important to Akira…?  _ Was he? He should be. Should he? _

Fake, fake, that was all fucking  _ fake,  _ you  _ moron.  _ Get it the fuck together.

"I'll let you know how it goes, man," Akira promised, rising and extending his hand. "I'll see ya."

Akechi took his hand.

"Stay."

He froze.

He clamped awkwardly onto Akira's hand. 

_ "What?"  _ the other boy asked.

"What?" 

Far too feeble.

"You said 'stay.'"

No thoughts. Adrenaline. The distinct twinge of embarrassment. Akira's inquisitive stare felt like a thousand accusatory scowls, and Akechi braced to receive the punishment he surely deserved.

It did not come, and his mouth did not stop.

"O-or I'll go with you, or you can…"

Akechi squeezed harder. He focused on his breath, and realized what he was doing and why he was doing it. 

As a result, he decided that the next thing he would do would be to draw his concealed gun and kill both Akira and himself.

Except he couldn't.

"H-hey, sorry, but…" Akira stuttered, slipping free of Akechi's grasp. "This…" He waved his hand, gesturing at the space in between the two of them. "...this isn't 'like that'. We're not 'like that'. I'm sorry if I gave that impression, but-"

Akechi turned and headed quickly for the door.

………

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  _

_ You moron. You invalid. You degenerate, retarded, subhuman piece of fucking garbage. _

………

Maruki was at the sink washing a dish when the door slammed behind Akechi. 

"Bed. Now," the boy ordered.

"Excuse me?"

"Get in the fucking bed."

"No," Maruki scoffed.

"...I  _ know  _ I didn't just hear you say that."

"You sure as hell did," Maruki affirmed. "Even I have my limits."

"You- ...you selfish  _ prick!  _ You're supposed to  _ help me! Don't you want to help me!?" _

"If the emotional burden of this relationship exceeds that of crippling you for a few months, I'm not afraid to do it - I already told you so. You've tested my patience before, Akechi-san. Where did that get you?"

_ "Don't fucking threaten me, you scum."  _ Akechi, blinded by hate, advanced towards Maruki.  _ "I'll fucking  _ **_kill_ ** _ you. You do what I say or I'll  _ **_fucking kill you, you piece of fucking shit!"_ **

Maruki wrapped his arms carefully around Akechi's back, and the boy immediately fell to pieces. 

As if it wasn't embarrassing enough to have lost control in front of Akira, he had to throw a tantrum at Maruki. He knew it was childish. He knew it was stupid. That was  _ why  _ he crumbled. As impossible as it seemed, he had used up all of the hatred from his heart. Had he been able to think clearly, he may have considered the strange implications of that fact. He had soldiered through many humiliations, failures, and setbacks (including the faded trauma of every visit to Shido), and yet he rarely ever truly lost the will to hate. All it took was a visit to Mementos to balance himself back out, cleansed in a baptism of blood. 

He didn't even blame himself for falling to tears before Maruki those few weeks ago. The doctor's power was immense; a lesser man would have done something far more embarrassing than simply  _ crying. _

So, what? It was all because he embarrassed himself? What did he care what Maruki or Akira thought?

Of course, Akechi was hardly able to consider any of that. He buried his face in Maruki's shoulder, as if that would somehow make it harder to see just how much he was crying. 

_ "Shhh, it's okay,"  _ cooed Maruki, and Akechi lacked the energy to be disgusted at how he was being treated.

A hand reached up, stroking Akechi's head. 

It felt…

Disgustingly good. So right it was wrong. 

_ "Do you… want to talk about it?" _

What could Akechi say to that? Any response would be equal parts pathetic and embarrassing. 

_ "Is it your father?"  _ Maruki guessed.  _ "Did he… hurt you? Again?" _

"Moron," Akechi snapped, pulling away. He leaned on the counter, staring at the wall. "He isn't capable of hurting me. You really think I'd let something so-"

Was being momentarily embarrassed  _ worse  _ than rape? If Akechi had let those words slip, it might have sounded like a bad attempt at a joke. So why did it  _ feel _ so much worse? 

"Goro…" Maruki sighed, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. 

"I'm weak. I'm a pathetic fucking weakling. Is that enough for you?"

"Just talk to me."

"And debase myself even more?"

"Let's sit. C'mon."

Trying desperately to relight whatever spark kept his heart ablaze, Akechi let the man lead him around the counter to the living room and joined him on the couch. There had to be something that would get him pissed again. It's not like he wasn't mad, but he couldn't focus. How could his willpower just… disappear?

"Nothing's off limits," Maruki hummed, cradling Akechi's hand in his own and softly massaging the boy's palm with his thumb. "Let it out."

"I… Akira…"

"Kurusu?"

"Yes. He's…"

Maruki stared inquisitively into his eyes, and Akechi hated how comfortable it felt. Nobody deserved to know how he worked on the inside. Nobody deserved to see him for who he was. And yet, the words flew free.

"He's better than me," Akechi admitted. "Stronger, smarter, more charismatic, and h- ...happier."

"Says who?"

"I do. I can't beat him, no matter what I try."

"...beat?"

"Well, I'm better than him at pool."

"Goro, you don't have to be the best at everything. I know it feels like you have to, but if you try to hold yourself to that standard, you'll destroy yourself."

"So what, then? Attend meaningless press junkets and interviews for 60 more years and then just  _ die? _ That's my life?"

"How would 'beating' Akira change that?"

"I-"

…? No, but-

"How about me?" Maruki offered.

"What?"

"You can be the best for me. Why worry about what strangers think?"

"I- I  _ don't  _ care. About what they think, or what you think."

In an unexpected show of initiative, Maruki pulled Akechi into a hug and kissed him softly.

"It's okay to be loved, Goro."

"You don't love me."

Another kiss. The pieces were there, but they would not go back together right. Akechi's head was scrambled, and he felt as hopeless as if he were trying to reassemble a shattered mirror. 

"No more hurting. No more embarrassment," Maruki promised. "Can I show you?"

Akechi couldn't find it within himself to protest, so he nodded. 

Maruki removed his glasses, setting them on the adjacent coffee table, and then replaced his hands on the boy's back, softly squeezing as they kissed again. It was no surprise that Maruki would be so gentle. If anything, Akechi wondered how the guy put up with all of his aggression. Maruki wasn't biting, or scratching, or spitting in his mouth. He was just… kissing him. Earnestly. 

It should have been boring. 

_ "Would you like to… go further?" _

A nod. 

………

As Maruki undressed him, Akechi felt a strange liberation. The man's hands on his body left trails of sensation - something he'd never really known to happen - and as those same hands pulled his sleeves free and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, he yearned more than ever for the simple feeling of skin on skin. The shirt came off, too, and every moment without Maruki's touch was torture. 

"Okay, lay down," Maruki suggested. 

"But, you-" 

Akechi gestured limply.

"O-oh. I guess it would be unfair to keep mine on,  _ heh." _

Akechi's desperation grabbed time and stretched it, making him watch in slow motion as Maruki's sweater slid off of his slim body, revealing the slight dark scruff on his belly and chest. Akechi got in the bed. 

Nothing compared to the relief Akechi felt as Maruki, kneeling over him, placed his hands on the boy's stomach and dragged them up across his marred skin. His fingertips slipped over his navel and across his ribs, and his thumbs just barely graced his supple nipples. They traveled regardless of the bruises or scars beneath them, leaving nothing but warmth in their wake. 

Dipping down, Maruki placed his lips against Akechi's neck, and the boy shivered. 

"I-is this okay?" Maruki asked nervously. 

"...fine." Akechi mumbled.

More kisses followed, and spread all across Akechi's body. Breath splashed at his collarbone and across his chest. Lips ever so briefly met his right nipple before Maruki's thumb joined in, massaging it gently. The man moved left, repeating his actions, and then began to descend further. 

With the snap of a button-clasp and the hum of a zipper, Akechi's pants were off. More fingers graced every inch of his hips and thighs, and lips up across the inside of his leg. Maruki cradled his (very average, now that he thought of it) cock, taking the trail of kisses up the bottom of his shaft before finally ending it with a final peck at the tip. 

As he took Akechi's glans in his mouth, Maruki's eyes flitted up. Akechi stared back.

Sucking gently, Maruki rolled the tip of his tongue against the underside of Akechi's head. 

Finally, Akechi whimpered. 

_ "Good?"  _ Maruki asked.

_ "Mmhn" _

Warmth engulfed Akechi as Maruki dipped, sliding the first few inches into his mouth. Involuntarily, Akechi's toes began to wiggle, and he tensed and relaxed his things at the repeated stimulation. It should have been tearing at his dignity to be acting so… girly, but he had no dignity left to destroy. 

_ "Takuto… kun…" _

_ "I like it when you call me that. It's cute." _

That bastard should have damn well fucking known Akechi didn't want to be called cute… but it actually  _ made him blush. _

Maruki's pants were off, too, and he hovered over Akechi. It was somewhat comforting to know that, while Akechi wasn't particularly well-endowed, Maruki was even less impressive. 

"Now, um, Goro-kun…" Maruki mumbled. "W-would you like to make love to me, or… may I make love to you?"

Before he could cringe, Akechi whimpered, "You… can."

Something wet met his ass, and he immediately shivered at the feeling. The parts of himself he had torn open were not only not mending themselves, but were unfurling even further. As the doctor massaged his twitching hole, the pure ecstatic electricity running up his spine seemed to mock him, stomping on his spite and laughing. 

A finger slipped inside him, and everything disappeared. He fell into the feeling, dislodging every stupid vendetta on the way down. 

_ "F-fuck me, Takuto-kun. Please." _

More. More feeling. That's what he needed. Whatever Maruki was giving him, he wanted to bathe in forever. Perhaps he should have been wrought with images of Shido's scowling face - memories of the pain and the beatings and the stinging, relentless fire in his ass - but the opposite was happening. He didn't care anymore. It wasn't right. Maruki was just being gentle and caring - that shouldn't make  _ that  _ much of a difference. 

Maruki leaned in, pulling Akechi into an impassioned kiss. 

There wasn't much room for critical thinking. 

Steady, even strokes. Maruki did not accelerate. Tension was building in Akechi's gut, slowly growing into a low boil. It was all he could do to match the movements of Maruki's lips, clamping his arms around the doctor's sweat-slicked back. 

His orgasm rolled over him like a wave, and as his hips rocked and a load of cum dribbled from his half-soft cock, he never let his lips leave Maruki's.

The thrusts continued, and Maruki finally pulled his head aside to ask,  _ "C-can I cum inside?" _

_ "Please, yes, please-" _

………

He had showered, his mind blank. Maruki did the same, and had laid down beside him.

"This is better than that couch, don't you think?" Maruki cooed.

"Mmhm."

"Do you… feel good? You seem different."

"It's… good. I feel…"

With a click, the lights were out, and Maruki's twiggy arms wrapped around Akechi, pulling him close. 

_ "I love you, Goro." _

_ "I-" _

Something was off. Or was it?

_ "You don't have to say it back right now,"  _ Maruki assured,  _ "but just know that I love you, okay?" _

_ "Mmkay…" _

Sleep came easily. 

………

And the morning came just as easily. 

Akechi felt Maruki's grasp, and immediately realized that everything was wrong. 

It had to have been some kind of trick. If Maruki could affect reality, surely he could manipulate an individual's attitude. Akechi couldn't shake the thoughts of the night before; it was exactly the kind of lovey-dovey bullshit Maruki would dream up, wasn't it?

Then why was Akechi back to normal, and why didn't he notice anything the previous night?

The bottom line was: that wasn't Akechi. He would never have let anything like that happen, let alone enjoying it. 

He stroked the hand clasped around his midsection. Things had gone much, much too far with this little 'game', and what was it anymore? Sure, Maruki was a very satisfying lay, but that wasn't worth prolonging his life. It had been admittedly easy to forget how everything started, even for someone so detail-oriented. 

No more. If Akechi was fucking up this bad, it was time to throw in the towel. He was close enough to Maruki to do the job. It was just…

Man, it had been a  _ while  _ since he thought about killing Maruki. Not that he lost his nerve, but he had committed so hard to their relationship that it felt a little strange. 

But fuck it. When you've killed as many people as Akechi, you probably feel a little strange about a few of them.

………

Maruki wasn't a shadow, but Mementos was still the best place for the deed for obvious reasons. They both stepped onto the first escalator, and Akechi gripped the handle of his knife. Just cut the throat and your hands are clean. You're out. Easy. You've done it before. 

...but what if Maruki was on guard? That was unlikely, but would cement Akechi's place in an immaterial, artificial prison. 

Don't be stupid, they had ridden the escalator ten times before, and Maruki showed no signs of paranoia.

They reached the first floor, and Akechi was already sweating. It was fine - he knew what would eliminate all uncertainty.

"Takuto?"

The man turned, and before he could respond, Akechi pressed against him, driving him to the wall.

"A-already?" Maruki asked. 

"Just a quick one," Akechi begged.  _ "Pleeease, Takuto-kun?" _

Maruki shrugged. 

One final time, Akechi kissed Maruki.  _ Goodbye, asshole.  _

In one swift motion, Akechi drew his knife and forced it through Maruki's neck. The man's eyes bulged, and while his mouth was shaping words, the only sound that could be heard was the air from his lungs bubbling through the blood pouring into his windpipe. Everything was in his eyes: fear, surprise, hatred, and most of all a profound sorrow, ineffable but to those who have witnessed true tragedy. 

The blood was excessive. Maruki's pristine suit was covered in a growing apron of red. Coming straight from the source, it was much darker and thicker than anything Akechi had ever seen. 

Maruki's hand, trembling horribly, reached up and cradled Akechi's face.

No.

No.

No, no, no, you don't care about him.

Stop fucking  _ crying  _ you little  _ bitch. _

_ You wanted this from the start. _

_ Stop it. _

_ Stop it. _

_ Stop it. _

_ Stop it. _

………

And then it stopped. All of it, apparently. 

All of a sudden, Akechi had been surrounded by darkness. He looked down at his body, although even if there was light, he would not have anything to look at, nor would 'looking at' anything make any sense. He was, as far as he could tell, without form. The blackness was not empty space, for there was no space to be empty, or so it seemed. He could think, but not perceive. ...did he die somehow? Was this hell? 

If there was any sensation at all, it may have been best described as 'floating', but, again, having been (apparently) torn from his corporeal form, describing feelings was like speaking a language that didn't exist. 

He had memories, and he could think, but all was faint in the presence of some sort of undefinable vastness. Perhaps it was the void itself, endless in both its darkness and profundity. No thought was worth thinking. Would it do anything to throw a grain of sand into the sun?

………

Boredom holds incredible power. The subjectivity of the human experience with regards to time allows the brain to force individuals to experience years of suffering in minutes, and to turn hours of joy into fleeting moments.

Akechi wasn't even sure if he  _ had  _ a brain anymore, and he certainly couldn't experience time. A second, a minute, a billion years - none of it made sense. It was all and nothing at once. In the past (before what?), Akechi had been unendingly frustrated by the inability of mathematics to properly explain the concept of infinity. He had seen Hilbert's Hotel, the Aleph numbers, set theory, all of it - and yet the very idea of infinity was near impossible to even  _ conceptualize.  _ 'Infinity', in respect to the natural world, might not even make  _ sense. _

Akechi understood. He was nothing, and somehow still something. He had reached the end of 'forever'.

Akechi was experiencing something akin to hearing a sound - loud, but distant. It gulped and gasped incoherently, but faintly bore the characteristics of a language. Where it could possibly come from or what was happening to Akechi to make him feel as if he was  _ hearing  _ something, he couldn't even begin to speculate, but…

He knew it was wrong. A place(?) like that was meant to be silent. If, in that place, something could exist, let alone  _ affect _ Akechi, he didn't want to imagine it. 

He saw(???) nothing, but the perceived sound grew louder. Each gurgled articulation seemed to be made up of granules of other indistinguishable sounds. Occasionally, these bits and pieces would overlap, meshing and modulating.

Howling. Screaming. Akechi had no ears to cover. 

There's a strange sort of gravity one feels when someone or something is near them. While in reality, this is merely a result of the combined efforts of the human senses, few would deny that a hand hovering above a shoulder or even a watchful eye across a room instills within a person a sense of  _ presence.  _ Wherever Akechi was or whatever he had become, he felt that very presence from every direction. A million groping hands reached out for him, screeching and grinding and drawing ever nearer. 

He could almost make out words, if they were words at all. Though they held no meaning, he felt distinctly as if they were directed at him. Accusing him. Judging him. 

This must have been hell. There would be no catharsis. No death to escape to. Those hands would never reach him, but their pressure would weigh on him eternally harder and harder, the sound pulling him apart piece by piece by piece into atoms into subatomic particles into gluons into the sheerest edge of nonexistence in nonexistance pulling dragging spreading screaming nothing into nothing into nothing into nothing into nothing into nothing into 

………

Akechi awoke in Maruki's arms.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to quote rich evans: "I'm through with rape!"  
> I've never been a "dark fanfic" sorta guy but something inside keeps telling me to make this one worse and worse. Another quote, this time from Benny Troung (the best Asian rapper): "Don't blame me, it's the voices, baby."
> 
> I know at least one degenerate motherfucker who's gonna like this chapter.

Akechi scrambled out of bed, and, failing to free his leg from the sheets, tumbled onto the floor. Suddenly, he was bathed in light, and he oriented himself to see Maruki with his hand on the bedside lamp. 

"G-Goro!" Maruki gasped. "What's wrong?"

"I- ...you-"

Okay, what could he really say? 'I tried to kill you and then wound up in a nightmare and now we're here?' Even if Akechi knew what happened, he couldn't rat himself out like that, but the absolute surreality of his situation left him without so much as a lie. Besides, none of that could have been a hallucination or a dream. Despite the other aspects of his character, Akechi's grip on reality was still entirely reliable. A delusion would not be so crisp and… well, _real._

"We've been here this whole time?" was the best Akechi could manage. 

"What? Of course we have... Bad dream?"

"S-something like that."

The blood. Akechi had seen it. Akechi had watched the light in Maruki's eyes dim, and felt the wretched spasms of his last breaths. 

And he had _regretted it._

Did he still?

Of course not, but…

Looking up into those same eyes, the genuine concern he saw made him feel as if he would not be able to do it again, if he'd really actually done it to begin with. Maybe it was a dream - some part of his fractured personality telling him to change his ways or something like that, which wouldn't make sense, given how Akechi had killed any charitable part of himself long before then. 

Akechi looked for gaps. He slept, he awoke, the day proceeded as normal, they travelled to Mementos, and Akechi killed Maruki. Not a single aspect of the experience was the least bit strange. No dreamlike time-dilation or nonsense logic. Nothing out of place. 

And then that _void…_ Abstract though it may have been, the feelings were still quite fresh in his mind. Real or fake, it terrified him. 

He fumbled for his clothes.

"W-what are you doing?" Maruki sputtered.

"I've got to go. Sorry. I just… I have to... orient myself. I think I made some sort of mistake."

Akechi shoved his phone and wallet into his pockets, and exited the room.

"But- Goro!"

He was already gone.

………

The streets were empty in the dark of the early morning as Akechi trekked back to his apartment. His mind spun in that black place, trying to tie his brief inexistence to any facet of reality he could think of. 

There was no solace in the subtle sound of the wind, nor the light pollution of the city. 

Then someone grabbed his coat collar and wrenched him aside. His face met the brick wall of some building, and his teeth bit a hole in his lip, erupting in pain. 

Before he could slip from his attacker's hands to rebuke them, there were footsteps, and more hands on his arms. He turned to see that one of them belonged to a tall man in a black suit, and immediately understood what was happening. 

He hadn't been returning Shido's calls.

 _"We got him. An alley near the corner of…"_ someone said quietly, presumably into a phone. 

Akechi would have struggled, but this was not the metaverse. His hand-to-hand combat experience would not do much against three trained thugs. They dragged him into the alley, deep enough that the shadows would conceal them.

………

Not one of the thugs said a word, nor did Akechi. He knew it would be pointless, and they knew it wasn't in their job description. Eventually, a car pulled up to the end of the alley, and two more men stepped out. One was the driver, the other was, unmistakably…

"Let him go. He's too smart to try to run," Shido ordered, and they obeyed. He strode over, emotionless. "Are you going to bother with an excuse?"

Akechi stared silently up, a glare trying to force its way onto his blank face. 

"Good," Shido said. "Yamashita, Miura, go home. Nakamura, come here."

Only then did Akechi notice the car in the alley, and the two men Shido had ordered to leave slunk into it and drove off. 

Shido palmed the back of Akechi's head, grabbing a clump of his hair and pulling them face-to-face. "Now, why exactly did you think-" ...he paused, then turned to glare at the one he called Nakamura. "I _told_ you morons not to touch his face. His face makes me money."

"I'm sorry, sir. Won't happen again, sir."

"And if I don't make money, you know what happens to you?"

"Yes, sir. I know, sir."

"Whatever."

With a growl, Shido let go of Akechi's head and turned him around. "Actually," he refocused, "I don't _care_ why you saw fit to ignore me." He hooked his thumbs into Akechi's waistband and wrenched his pants to his ankles. "I'm sure you'll rethink that decision. You just need a little reminding."

Stoically, Akechi peered up at the thug's face, watching as the man silently averted his gaze. Despite his imminent violation, Akechi found great entertainment in the obvious discomfort of Shido's bodyguard. Then Shido forced himself inside of the boy, and the pain began. 

If anything, it had become familiar. Akechi wasn't joking when he claimed to be used to such punishment. He was sure it had mutated his sexual development, but he felt as if he were already too damaged for the trauma to ever really mean much. If he already felt like a piece of unwanted garbage deep down, what was all that bad about being treated like one?

Akechi sputtered and moaned, crying out in what was really just a performative show of pain. If he didn't, Shido might just shoot him dead right then and there. 

A dull pain in his back. Shido had punched him, and hard. The impact made the bodyguard jump somewhat, and Akechi forced himself to stop smiling. 

Another blow came, and Shido's thrusts continued. 

"Nakamura," Shido said suddenly. "Punish the boy."

"S-s-sir?"

"He's got another hole, doesn't he? Use it. You might enjoy yourself."

"Sh-Shido-san, I-I have a w-wi-"

"You won't have shit if you don't do what I say."

Silently, the man undid his pants, and his flaccid cock drooped in Akechi's face. Saving the man some embarrassment, Akechi took it in his mouth. It was bigger than average, with a lingering musk that suggested their search party had been ongoing for a while. In any other circumstance, it would have probably turned Akechi on quite a bit.

"You are _not_ autonomous," Shido growled, striking Akechi again. "You do what I say because you are my _property._ An _asset._ If you can't make me money, I'll throw you away. You know all that already, don't you?"

The thug was finally starting to get hard, and his hand came to rest on the back of Akechi's head, although it was more to save face than anything else. In fact, seeing as what Shido was doing was entirely unremarkable, Akechi was considering changing things up, just for fun. It was strange - he felt like it had been forever since he had a chance to really fuck with someone.

Akechi drove his head down onto the man's groin, a wiry nest of pubes tickling his lips. He allowed his throat to clench and spasm, grinding his uvula against the obstruction. A watery mixture of bile and whatever had been Akechi's dinner splashed across the front of the thug's pants, and he immediately recoiled in horror.

_"Oh god, oh- oh fuck-"_

_"Christ,"_ Shido sneered. "Just wait in the car if you're going to be such a pussy."

"Y-yes, sir. Th-thank you, sir."

_"...limp-dicked faggot."_

With all the emotion of an automaton, Shido pumped one final time into Akechi, spilling his load inside. He sighed. 

"I don't think this is enough…" Shido postulated. "I worry you've grown to enjoy being my fucktoy. _...little slut."_

Three fingers gathered up the cum leaking from Akechi's slack hole and pushed inside of him up to the knuckles. Akechi strained, focusing all his energy on relaxing his ass. That familiar burning was back, and Akechi hoped Shido wasn't planning on going much further. He was experienced, but not like that. 

Shido forced another finger inside, and the first genuine cry escaped Akechi's throat. It was too much too fast, and _woefully_ unlubricated. Pain was beginning to overtake the dull excitement of being violated, and Akechi's breath began to accelerate and hitch. 

"What, is this too much? Don't tell me you were just faking it before," Shido hissed. 

Thrusting harder, Shido pushed his knuckles against Akechi's strained entrance, and the boy cried out again.

"You _were_ enjoying it, weren't you, slut?"

_"-hurts, it h-haah-"_

Now, why did that sound familiar?

With a grunt, Shido bunched all of his fingers together and forced his entire hand into Akechi.

A tsunami of pain crashed against Akechi's insides like a knife in his intestines, and he screamed and choked on thin air. Shido had pushed too far, he was sure of it. Something inside of him tore. He wasn't screaming for help - he knew nobody would come, not in Tokyo - but because he simply could not help it.

His hair was being pulled, and he unclenched his eyelids. An unflattering, rancid odor wafted up at him. 

Shido was holding out his hand, which dripped with a mixture of blood, cum, and most regrettably, what looked and smelled like his own waste. 

"You keep my hands clean, don't you, boy?"

Though he didn't say _words,_ Akechi was still gasping and whimpering, blinking away tears.

"Then, do your job," Shido ordered. 

Akechi reluctantly wrapped his lips around one finger, and his stomach immediately heaved. 

"If you throw up again, you'll just have more to clean…" Shido warned. 

Too prideful to beg, Akechi continued. No, fuck pride. Akechi was scared. He hadn't even had a chance to recover from the last incident, and Shido was, for once in what felt like forever, actually hurting him. 

Strangely enough, he began to think about Maruki. Had _he_ ever been put through something like this before Akechi came along? Sure, the guy could have stopped it all at any moment, but he was obviously just trying to give Akechi what he wanted - any enjoyment Maruki actually experienced likely stemmed from that desire. Despite having been raped, violated, and used for years, Akechi hadn't really felt degraded since it all began. He was confident - a winner. A little 'punishment' wasn't going to change that one bit. 

But now… ...and how did Maruki feel? Why did Akechi even care?

Akechi sucked another finger clean and gagged again. 

Before long, he was being led to the car and pushed in the open door. Shido walked around the side to the front passenger seat, and as Akechi righted himself, still shivering in pain, he caught a pitiful look from the other thug, who sat stiffly in his seat, pants stained. 

………

"I'll be in touch, Akechi-kun," Shido said simply. 

The car was stopped in front of Akechi's apartment building, and no further warning was needed. He stumbled out of the car and into the building.

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

2:32. Six cars had passed since Akechi arrived. He poured himself a glass of water, but did not drink it. A blue Subaru whirred by. Seven cars.

Akechi palmed the laminate grip of his handgun.

3:54. Still alone. More cars passed, and Akechi lost count. 

His lip throbbed. His gut stung. For once, he didn't know what to do about it. 

4:25. Surely that was long enough. Why would anyone be keeping an eye on him? Shido was gone, and he was convinced Akechi was-

But they could have planned it beforehand. Maybe he was a person of interest now, and-

No, if Shido smelled something rotten, he wouldn't bother investigating. 

Bottom line, he just didn't want to lead Shido to Maruki.

………

Back on the streets, Akechi imagined climbing back into bed with Maruki as if nothing happened. Reluctantly, he ignored how much of a pussy that made him sound like. When Akechi wanted something, he got it, and that wasn't about to change just because he wanted emotional comfort. If anyone had a problem with that, they could see how far that got them in a fight. 

………

The lights were on. Akechi's eyes darted from the fridge, to the sink, to the sofa in the living room… nothing was out of place, but…

A groan came from the bathroom, and Akechi immediately knew he was too late. Somehow, Shido knew that-

Calm down, asshole. Quit panicking. 

Akechi rounded the corner to the bathroom and stopped dead in his tracks. 

Maruki was lying flat on his back. There was a mostly-empty bottle of scotch by his head, and a small pile of puke next to the toilet. 

_ "What the hell?"  _ Akechi whispered to himself.

Maruki's eyes flitted up, and he began chuckling to himself, his arms splayed out across the white tile. 

"T-Takuto, what-" Akechi began, kneeling down and gently grabbing the doctor by the shoulders.

_ "Lemme go-"  _ Maruki whined. "Don' move my head, fuck-"

"You shouldn't be laying on your back, dumbass. You want to choke to death on your own vomit?"

"OH!  _ Yeah!  _ Cause  _ you  _ wouldn' want  _ that,"  _ Maruki mocked, laughing again. 

Grunting, Akechi pulled Maruki onto his side, and the man heaved a gag.

"Why are you doing this?" Akechi asked solemnly. 

_ "Fug you-"  _ Maruki hiccupped.

"What?"

"I said-  _ Fuck. You." _

"Takuto, if I've done something to-"

"You  _ know  _ what you fuckin' did, and I bet you don't even  _ care.  _ Is' my pr'fessional opinion that you're a  _ complete fuckin' psychopath." _

"B-but-"

"Oh, yeah, you got a hard life, I don' doubt that shit," Maruki mumbled, reaching blindly for the bottle. Akechi slid it out of reach. "That doesn' mean you c'n fuckin'  _ kill people. _ Y'know what? You're  _ selfish."  _ Maruki rolled over onto his stomach and awkwardly pointed an accusing finger up at Akechi's face.  _ "Fuggin'. Selfish." _

"Takuto, you're drunk. I'm going to get you some water. If you don't hydrate, I promise you'll regret it."

"You sstay here til' I'm done," Maruki ordered, crawling towards Akechi. He grabbed the boy's shirt and tried to pull himself up, but fell forward, taking them both to the ground. Another groan. Akechi hoped Maruki was done vomiting - he'd had enough of bodily fluids for the time being.  _ "Yousstayheretil'i'm done." _

"Get  _ off  _ of me," Akechi complained, though he didn't exactly feel like shoving someone whose head was already surely spinning. 

"Y'remember Kamoshida? He fucked those kids. Beat 'em, too. Ev'ry day," Maruki assured, propping himself up on Akechi's chest. "Fuggin' school didn't care, parents didn't care, couldn't tell their friends…"

"Takuto, that's enough. Come on, g-"

_ "No! It's not enough!"  _ Maruki rebuked, slapping Akechi across the cheek.  _ "The fuck d'you think those kids did? You think they went out n' started fuck'n' killin people? Fuckin'  _ **_rapin' people!?_ ** _ No! They came to  _ **_me!"_ **

"Y-you just  _ hit  _ me," Akechi whispered in disbelief. 

"I thought I w's helping you. I... _threw away my pride... for_ ** _you!_** _My dignity, my profession - everything I fucking believed in… all_ ** _gone!_** 'Cause I made the mistake of trying to help **you.** ...she would _hate_ me if she knew what I did…"

Maruki rolled off of Akechi, gagging on tears. 

"Y-you  _ are _ helping," Akechi claimed. "Last night… and-"

Between awkward sobs, Maruki began laughing again.

"Jus'like you, I didn' know what happened at first," he said. "Didn' even remember it. I got to thinkin', an' it seem'd like I had some kinda bad dream, but it w's all blurry n' shit… then, for the first time n' a while… he started talkin' again."

"...he?"

"He saw it all, n' he's who made sure I didn't bite the dust when you  _ cut my fucking throat." _

But...

"M-Ma-" Akechi fumbled.

_ "Shhhut up." _

"I-"

"Shut the  _ fuck up!" _

Akechi obeyed, and he tried to make sense of the situation. So, Maruki's persona stopped him from dying… but how did that work? Was it… autonomous? That brought into question the nature of personas as a whole, and-

No matter how he tried to tear it down and put it back together, Akechi couldn't come to any kind of conclusion. It felt like it should be obvious, but his head would not put the pieces in order. He was… fatigued. He had been put on the spot plenty of times before, but his quick thinking never wavered, always there to keep him above the water. Now, though, he mostly just wanted to go back a few days and start over. Just that much. There was a better way to deal with Maruki, surely.

"I never shoulda trusted you, you scum," Maruki growled. "You tried to kill me back then, and now…"

The man cast an arm over his face. In any other situation, it might have looked silly, but given his condition, it was so theatrical it was actually pathetic. 

_ "Why don't you wanna be happy?"  _ he mumbled to himself.  _ "I can… I could have made you happy. But…" _

Shakily, Maruki leaned his elbow against the ground, sitting up with some effort and yet another groan. He stretched an open hand out towards Akechi. 

...some kind of peace offering? The guy didn't sound like he was in that kind of mood, but Akechi couldn't think of anything better if he wanted to, so he reached out, too.

His gun appeared in Maruki's hand, and the man quickly pressed the barrel to his head and pulled the trigger. 

Maruki grunted in confusion.

Akechi was surprised, too. He carried condition zero - magazine in, round chambered, and safety  _ off.  _ It should have gone off.

As Maruki peered cluelessly at the side of the gun, Akechi came to his senses. He dove, knocking the man onto his back and sending the gun clattering across the floor. Maruki rolled onto his side and coughed, a dribble of bile sputtering from his mouth. Laying in a limp pile, he began sobbing again. 

Catching his breath, Akechi laid beside the doctor. 

Just when he'd found comfort in the man, he ruined it for both of them. Even still, he knew in his heart he couldn't let Maruki's plan come to fruition, but… what could he do? Kill him for real, sure, but even if that unfathomably powerful persona wasn't keeping watch… he didn't want to. What came after that? He'd kill Shido and go on with his detective shtick, but how long would that last? Even if the fickle eye of the public found him interesting into his adult years, did he even enjoy his job? 

He thought of the warmth of Maruki's touch. He allowed the man inside of him, and, even for just a moment, had seen a certain serenity on his face. As revolting as it should have been - as much as it went against every line of mental defense he had spent  _ years  _ meticulously crafting - he enjoyed making Maruki happy. 

Now, Maruki was far from happy.

Akechi picked himself up and walked to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water. He took it over to Maruki, who hadn't moved. 

"Get up," he said quietly. 

There was no movement but for Maruki's heaving sobs. Determined, Akechi grabbed the doctor's hair and pulled him upright, shoving the glass into a face that dared not look at him. 

"Drink," Akechi ordered. "Do it, you moron."

Bleary eyes slowly rolled towards him, scanning his face. Surprisingly, Maruki did as he was told, though he would not stop scowling. In two big gulps, the glass was empty, and Akechi took it back and set it aside on the floor. 

"Can I move you?" Akechi asked. 

Again, there was no real response, but from his stare alone, Akechi could tell Maruki didn't really care anymore. 

He grabbed Maruki around his chest, pulling him to his feet. While the man could stand, he was leaning almost his entire weight into Akechi. Undeterred, Akechi hobbled over to the couch in the living room, laying Maruki onto it softly. 

"I'm going to get you more water, and then I'm going to clean the bathroom. If you need something, I'll be here."

"Shoot me."

"No."

………

Maruki stirred. Sunlight shone dully through the drawn curtains of the living room, and he gripped his forehead hopelessly.

_ "Fuck,"  _ he whimpered, and then he turned.

Sitting in a chair from the dining table, Akechi sat watching him. 

_ "Christ,"  _ Maruki gasped. "What  _ happened?" _

"It's my fault," Akechi answered stoically. "Stay still." He rose, starting for the kitchen.

"Goro, uhm," Maruki called out after him, "I didn't… I didn't say anything- o-or  _ do  _ anything- ...please tell me I didn't do anything stupid."

"You had a lot to say." Akechi shot a glance at the mostly-empty whisky bottle now perched on the top of the fridge and sighed, flicking one of the stove's burners on. 

"How long have you been here?"

"Well, it's around noon, so at least 7 hours." He cracked an egg with one hand, fishing for a spatula with the other. 

"...have you slept?"

"As much as I needed to."

"Less than 7 to 9 hours, I would guess," Maruki sighed. 

"I didn't think you'd be in the mood for jokes."

_ "...not really a joke." _

"I suspected my father might be watching me. You weren't in any position to defend yourself."

A groan came from the living room.

"Stay still," Akechi called out. "You need rest. And food." He poked at the sizzling pile of yellow in the frying pan. Apparently, Maruki did as he was told, as he made no further sounds, allowing Akechi the time to finish cooking the eggs and slide them onto a plate. He couldn't find any salt (and who the hell had a stove and ingredients but no salt?), so he finished the eggs with pepper and carried them to Maruki, along with another glass of water. 

"I don't understand," Maruki said, cautiously eyeing the small meal in front of him. "I don't understand you at all, and I'm sorry."

_ "I _ was going to apologize, but if you really want to fuel your little messiah complex with some more self-flagellation, I won't stop you."

"Be careful throwing those Psych 101 terms around. If there's anything any good doctor should know, it's that people don't neatly fall into categories like that."

"Christ. You're so up your own ass you haven't even mentioned 'it' yet."

"I don't want to. Don't want to think about it. Don't want to believe you did it."

"Would it surprise you to know I feel the same way?"

Light returned to Maruki's drooping eyes for a mere moment. "...if I knew you weren't lying, yes."

"I could have done it this morning, I think - so long as the bullet made it through your brain before your 'friend' could do anything about it. It takes time to suffocate. A gunshot, not so much. You thought so, too, didn't you?"

"I  _ what?" _

"You gave it your best effort, but now I wager you should be thanking your persona some more."

"Goro, just tell me what I did."

"For next time - if there is a next time," Akechi instructed, pulling his gun from his jacket, "try the thumb safety." He flicked a lever near the back of the gun's slide, and Maruki flinched. "There. If you knew that, you would have killed yourself properly. I wouldn't have had time to stop you."

Maruki's gaze softened. His whole body sat still, yet limp, as if he lacked the energy to even consider his actions let alone lament them. 

"Eat, Takuto," Akechi insisted, pocketing his weapon. "It's getting cold."

The doctor's eyes shifted lazily to the plate of scrambled eggs, then to the corner of the room. 

"I  _ am  _ sorry, for the record," Akechi sighed. "But don't misplace your blame. Some people can't be saved, and you certainly shouldn't think you alone can save everyone."

"I know, I-"

"If you're apologizing to  _ me, _ then no. You don't fucking know."

"So what, then?" Maruki snapped. "What are we even  _ doing  _ here? You could have done  _ this,  _ you could have done  _ that…  _ I'm tired of this shit. I- I mean-"

Akechi rolled his eyes.

"I can't keep this up," Maruki continued. "You can take your last swing, or you can leave me alone. If you want me to admit I failed, then fine. I'm not deluded enough to think I'm inerrant. But you… if you're still stringing me along after everything that's happened… if you think I'm going to let you keep hurting me… you're not just deluded. You're a fool."

"Not to ignore your touching little speech, but there's another option for us. An academic like you knows what a 'false dichotomy' is, I'm sure."

Maruki's brow tightened. He did not reply.

"How long is it going to take to breach the heart of Mementos?" Akechi wondered. "More than a week, surely. It takes a month to reach each new level. In the meantime, I have a proposal."

"Okay," Maruki said, though his tone made it clear he was far from okay with what Akechi was saying. 

"I'll drop the bullshit - I was never interested in helping you and I never will be. My goals are my goals, and yours are yours. That said… I don't want to leave, Takuto. I know I've treated you like dirt, and I'm not sure yet if I really have any remorse about that fact, but I'm willing to put the past behind us for a little while. We both deserve a break, don't you think? ...then, when the time comes for you to act… I'll be there to stand in your way. For now-" 

Reaching into his coat again, Akechi produced his gun. With a subtle motion, he dropped the magazine into his other hand and placed it on the table before racking the slide once, emptying the chamber. He caught the loose round before it rolled off the table and pocketed it and the magazine. He gripped the barrel of the gun, thrusting it butt-first towards Maruki. 

"I don't want to touch that."

"You already have."

"Just keep it."

"I see. I had hoped-"

"How do you feel about me, really?" Maruki interrupted. "If you're doing all this… Make me believe you. God knows I want to."

"I like you, Maruki," Akechi admitted.

For a moment, Maruki scanned the boy's face.

"A fork," he decided, finally taking a sip of water. 

"What?"

"For the eggs. I need a fork."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> appreciating every opportunity I have to give maruki a little more character before I wrap this one up.

"Kurusu escaped."

_"Excuse me?"_

"Killed a handful of guards," Akechi explained into the phone. "Not sure on the details yet. I suggest you begin a manhunt as soon as possible."

 _"He_ killed them? He's- ...where are you now?"

"Reviewing security footage. Nothing's come up yet."

"How the _hell- ..._ stay on the line."

………

The brutally beige hallways swept past, kinked in humorless right angles. Some of the steel doors were watched over by cameras Akechi knew he didn't have to worry about. The floor plan floated fuzzily in his mind's eye, each turn carefully memorized. It wasn't too hard, really. He knew the place well enough already. How many of these plain rooms had he been in? They were all the same: grey stone, grey metal, grey grey grey. Interrogation rooms to the uninformed. Deathrooms to those who understood. 

And of course Akira had to be put in the room at the furthest end of the hallway. At least empty rooms weren't actively guarded. As Akechi approached his destination, his stride became even more brisk, the familiar tingle of adrenaline washing down from his brain and setting his heart racing. The bored-looking cop near the farthest door turned his dull stare towards Akechi. The detective ferociously palmed the folding knife in his coat pocket. 

"Akechi-san, aren't you a little early?"

The distance closed between him and the man. He hardly even saw a man anymore - he saw no more light in the man's eyes than in that of an animal. 

"U-um, Akechi-san?"

The man raised his clipboard up in confusion. It was happening too quickly for him to know whether or not to defend himself - and from what?

"Hey- _hey- st-"_

Mechanically, Akechi flicked the knife free from his pocket, pressing his chest against the hapless man's arms and reaching behind him. The protest was silenced with one sturdy plunge, the blade slipping behind his ribcage and into his kidney. The only issue from the man's throat was a ragged, near-silent gasp, which, with another motion of the knife, turned to a wet hiss. 

Hurriedly, Akechi wiped a portion of his blade clean on what little of the man's shirt wasn't already damp and flicked it shut, stashing it back in his pocket. His limbs felt light, but not to the extent that he was losing control. If anything, he was more in charge than ever. It had been a while since he'd taken a human life, let alone one of Shido's goons. The metallic scent of blood tingled in his nostrils, and he had to stop himself from smirking at the rush of circulation to his privates. How absurd it all felt. 

The door swung open. Slumped face down onto the grey metal folding table was Akira, his matted, wavy hair obscuring his features. The guard in the corner grunted. 

"Oh, uhm, hey, Akechi-san. Aren't you a little-"

"Early, yes."

Taking one step, Akechi drew his gun and brought the butt of it down across the guard's temple. The man crumpled backwards into the corner, and Akechi scrambled to unsnap the holster on his hip. The knife would be hard to excuse, but ballistics that matched Akechi's gun would be impossible to explain. He pocketed his own gun, aiming with the other and firing a single shot. 

With a clatter, Akira twitched in surprise, knocking himself out of his chair. Akechi rushed over to him and was almost taken aback by the boy's condition. Random swollen bumps and a crusted-over smattering of small cuts told a story Akechi knew quite well. He was lucky Shido liked his face so much. 

_"Get up, asshole."_

Akira only grunted. 

………

"He's _what!?"_

"Calm down. You should be thankful I've decided against killing them all," Akechi scoffed, reclining into Maruki's sofa. The man paced the width of his apartment, obsessively picking at a hangnail on his thumb.

"Yes, you've become _so_ moral as of late," Maruki spat. "...what are you going to do?"

For a moment, all Akechi was considering was whether he liked Maruki more as the wimpy doormat he usually was or as the snide asshole that came out when he was either nervous or drunk. Perhaps he was just more comfortable speaking his mind. Nonetheless, next time they had the chance, Akechi imagined he would like to get Maruki sloppy again. 

"I'm going to get him out," he decided absently. 

"What does that mean to you, 'get him out'? Are you gonna gas the place? Bomb it? How many bodies are you gonna make, huh?"

"No more than I have to."

"So, more than _zero,"_ Maruki grumbled. 

"Relax. I have my plan. You could try to stop me if you're that concerned."

"That won't work, and you know it. And to get him out would mean influencing the realities of… a lot of people."

"A shitload of people. It was on the news, you know."

_"Fuck…"_

"C'mere," Akechi urged, reaching a hand out to an exasperated Maruki.

"Are you _kidding_ me?"

"Just shut up and come here."

Maruki's hard stare dissolved as he rolled his eyes, releasing a sigh that sounded as childish as he felt. He skirted the coffee table to reach the couch, taking Akechi's hand. Akechi's other arm viciously tugged Maruki onto his lap, their chests slapping together with a thud. Immediately, Akechi's lips were on the man's neck, and his hand entangled in his hair. Maruki whimpered and softened into the boy's grasp. 

_"It's gonna be okay,"_ Akechi promised softly, planting kiss after kiss up and down the man's soft neck. _"I've got it all under control, okay?"_

"F-fine," Maruki grunted through gritted teeth. His jaw relaxed; Akechi had moved to kiss him. Reluctantly - and it was always reluctantly - he allowed the intruding tongue to slip against his. 

"I'm doing this for Akira, not for me. I don't have to save him. This is a _good_ thing."

"But, the _killing…"_

"It'll be over soon."

………

The advantage of having the guard's gun came with the _dis_ advantage of having to drag along a severely drugged-up Akira. Despite whatever cocktail of benzodiazepines had been forced into his veins, he was cognizant enough to stop in his tracks at the sight of the corpse in the hall.

 _"Don't look at- just fucking_ **_go! Go!"_ ** Akechi growled, wrapping his other arm around the boy and pushing. Akira stumbled alongside him, but kept glancing back at the pile of reddened cloth and flesh in the corner, babbling gibberish under his breath. 

Beige, grey. Beige, grey. The hallways were so redundant they began to lose all meaning in Akechi's racing mind. The geometry was all so simple - the colors so solid and barren - that he barely processed it at all, his focus ruled by the whimpering boy on his shoulder and the lingering, intoxicating smell of fresh blood. 

One right turn lead to the elevator. There would be a guard on one side and a locked door on the other, though neither would be a problem. Even without subsonic rounds, the sound of gunshots would not travel far in such a place. If anything, it was designed specifically with that in mind. 

Akechi pressed on around the corner, gun drawn. The man guarding the elevator didn't even have time to react.

At the sight and sound, Akira groaned, dropping some of his weight and almost taking Akechi with him. 

_"Get up, idiot. Get the hell-"_

As he pulled Akira back upright, it became clear that the boy had begun weeping. Be it from fear, confusion, or something else, Akechi couldn't be sure. All he could do was growl in frustration and press on. 

Leaning into the corner of the elevator, he awkwardly stroked at Akira's hair. 

"Listen, uhm- I'm not really sure you can even understand me, but _please_ stop crying, okay? And if you end up remembering me saying that, tell me so I can kill you."

Something changed in Akira's bleary eyes. He wasn't quite smirking, but he wasn't sobbing anymore. 

"Yeah," Akechi sighed to himself. "That probably would be funny if I was joking."

………

"And the security footage? What do you see?" Shido hissed, underscored by the indistinct shuffling of papers and slamming of drawers.

"He must have had help. Even though they're closed circuit, these things were just playing loops."

………

The glinting black eye of yet another security camera peered down at Akechi as the elevator doors opened. One more door, and they'd be inside the machine room that _used_ to be a maintenance entrance before Shido had his way. The stale smell of rust and natural gas fumes hung faintly in the air as the pair skirted around a long-abandoned boiler. 

**_DO NOT EXIT_ **

**_DOOR WILL ALARM IF OPENED_ **

No, it wouldn't. 

Just as he promised he would be, Maruki was waiting in the alley.

………

"I'm sending my men. Leave. Don't implicate yourself into this at all."

………

"So… what do we do with him?" Maruki asked, hands glued to the steering wheel with sweat.

"Not sure. Keep him safe until the drugs wear off, at least. That's a day on its own. I don't think he needs a doctor, but he's gonna look bad for a while."

"What the hell did they do to him?"

With a hollow click, Akechi's seatbelt was off, and he turned to pull Akira upright. "Drive safe," he mumbled unconvincingly.

"I am!"

An incredulous glare met Maruki's eyes in the rearview.

Button by button, Akechi worked Akira's shirt open, and the boy slumped over onto him. He pulled lightly at the garment, but it was matted ever so slightly to his body with sweat and the crust of fresh scabs. At the sight of what appeared to be multiple slash wounds, Akechi tugged the shirt shut again, fastening it.

"Well?" Maruki begged, eyes darting occasionally to and from the mirror.

"Could be a lot worse," Akechi sighed. "He doesn't need a doctor."

"Well, he's got one anyway!" Maruki chuckled nervously. 

"What, are you going to read him _7 Habits of Highly Effective Torture Victims?_ Maybe a piece of candy would heal his bruises, too."

"I'm never allowed to have fun around you, am I? A-and if you're gonna badmouth self-help authors, don't pick on Ste-"

"Shut up and drive."

"Yeah."

……...

With a grunt, Akechi hefted Akira through the bathroom door. Another hiss of exertion escaped him as he laid the clothed boy into Maruki's bathtub. A set of footsteps stopped behind him. 

"You're…?" 

"He doesn't need an infection," Akechi answered prematurely. 

"Yeah, but…."

"What?" Akechi snapped, turning to glare at an incredulous Maruki. "You think I'm going to kill him? Take advantage of him?"

"Wouldn't be out of character for you," Maruki sighed. 

"Didn't I tell you-" Akechi seethed. "If that's what I wanted, I'd have done it already. Get some clothes. I don't need this shit right now, _Takuto."_

Infuriatingly, Maruki smirked. "Sure thing, _Goro."_

Akechi pulled the door shut and turned towards the tub. Delicately, he lifted each of Akira's limbs, stripping each piece of his filthy uniform free of his body. Matted hair hung in Akira's eyes as he slumped naked against the side of the tub. To anyone else, the sparse array of fresh cuts and bruises might have been troubling.

A palm slid gently up and across the slightly swollen maw of a wound on Akira's chest. They had gone easy on him. Maybe it was because he was just a kid. 

The faucet squeaked as Akechi edged the hot water dial on. He stared, his hand still venturing up and down the other boy's marred chest. Like this, he could do whatever he wanted. He could lean in, laying his lips on that once-unmarked throat, learning his touch. He could venture down, brushing against his trimmed pubic hair and toying with his wilted cock.

But he didn't need to. Battered, beaten, disgraced… Akechi wished the opportunity had been his, but facts were facts: Akira got his punishment. Perhaps he would snap awake some nights, shivering and sweating at the vivid memory of a kick in the ribs. Maybe he'd get a chill every time he saw a needle. No matter what, he would have to live with the trauma forever, which was satisfaction enough for Akechi. 

As the water level rose and he began soaping Akira's limp body, Akechi considered his past immaturity. Kill him? Why? Such a fleeting, animalistic triumph should be enjoyed only by degenerates as pathetic as those under Shido's employ. Killing was nothing. A hobby, maybe. A utility for sure. The real sport was bringing someone into Akechi's world, even just for a moment. What would they do? Would they just break completely, or would they warp forever? Was there any way back?

…why did that matter?

………

"Should we… give him some water?"

"Takuto, he's _unconscious."_

"Well, how do you know he's not sleeping?"

Akira lay under a sheet, dressed in Maruki's pajamas. Despite the ridicule Akechi dished out, Maruki had insisted they would be 'comfy,' and that Akira would certainly not care as much as Akechi about 'looking foolish.' 

"You want to wake him up? What if he's still delirious? What if he throws some kind of fit? Did you forget about how you just smuggled an enemy of the state out of a black-budget deathroom?"

Maruki's jaw stood out for a moment. "He'll be fine. He needs water."

"Alright," Akechi sighed, stepping towards the couch. He nudged Akira's shoulder once, to no avail. With a second, more emphatic attempt, the boy's eyes cracked slightly open. Akira's breath was shallow as he stretched a shaky hand upwards, and although he was confused, Akechi stayed still. The arm wrapped around his back and pulled him into a hug. 

_"Aww,"_ Maruki whispered, meriting a harsh glance from over Akechi's shoulder. 

"Akira?" Akechi asked, returning his focus to the boy's bleary, half-shut eyes. "Are you okay?"

An indecipherable slur of syllables dribbled from Akira's mouth, and his arm went limp, his eyes falling shut again. Akechi rose. 

"Let him rest."

"Fair enough," Maruki sighed. "...seems like there's another person you care about," he added with a sly grin. 

"Conjecture," Akechi dismissed. 

"Yeah, you risked your ass for him, but you _definitely_ don't care," Maruki joked. 

"He didn't _need_ to die."

"Didn't need a bath, either. Or to be taken care of at all. You could have dropped him off at that Sakura guy's doorstep and called it a day, right?"

Of course he wouldn't understand. Forget how much this would anger Shido. Forget how Akechi could have warned the Thieves if he really did care. They could all be dead right now if they didn't manage to escape - however they had done it. No, Maruki always had to pull him down to the same goody-two-shoes level. The world was not a sympathetic place, and Akechi sure as hell wasn't going to fight that. He never did. Never would. 

"None of that means anything. Just… shut up about it."

Disobeying, Maruki took a step towards Akechi and cradled a gloved hand in his. "You decided not to kill _me."_

"Gets you in the romantic mood, does it?" Akechi shot back.

"Honestly? A little."

It wouldn't have taken much for Akechi to pull away, but he didn't. He had wondered before exactly what Maruki thought of their relationship given, well, everything. At first, he was more like a frightened dog, doing whatever Akechi said presumably out of fear of what would happen if he didn't, but someone who could turn the tides with a mere thought wouldn't behave like that. Wouldn't act out of fear. Now he was taking initiative. Talking back. Whether or not he actually did, it seemed like he thought he understood Akechi now. Sure, their sex life wasn't entirely ruled by Akechi (even barring that one particular moment of vulnerability on Akechi's part, he had let Maruki occasionally take control in the interest of variety if nothing else) but it was rare to see so much fire in the man's eyes. 

"Maybe we should take this to the bedroom."

………

Akechi sighed, lowering himself onto Maruki. Barely enough time had elapsed for either of them to get more than the minimum amount of clothing off before they both succumbed to desire, and as Akechi began to roll his hips back and forth on Maruki's cock, his leather shoulder-holster bounced. The textured black polymer of somebody else's gun slapped against his ribs. 

_"Can you -unh- put that thing away?"_ Maruki grunted. 

"What, this?" Akechi asked, drawing the weapon.

_"Yeah."_

"You're just asking for it now," Akechi sighed, dragging the slide back to check the chamber. Brass stared back at him. 

_"I'm…? -ohjesus-"_

Maruki's hands flew up in front of his face, as if that would protect him from anything. Really it was more to block the image of the barrel Akechi had pointed at his head. 

"Come on, you weakling. I've done worse," Akechi complained. "Now fuck me."

A hand pulled away slowly, and Maruki peeked out from behind it. Just from that little sliver of his face, Akechi could tell things weren't going to work like this. 

"This is different, dude - I-I-I mean, Goro-"

Akechi rolled his eyes.

"-I'm not gonna be able to… _perform…_ with a gun to my head."

 _"Fine,"_ Akechi conceded, turning the gun around in his hand. Holding it by the barrel, he thrust the grip towards Maruki. "You do it, then."

 _"Uhhhm,"_ Maruki groaned. "Is that gonna go off?"

With an impudent sigh, Akechi reached up and flipped the safety on.

"O-okay, but- are there bullets in it?"

 _"Rounds,"_ Akechi corrected, sneering. He racked the slide, and the chambered round twirled through the air, landing on Maruki's clothed chest. The man's eyes locked onto the unspent ammunition before he reluctantly cradled the gun in both his hands.

 _"Heavy-"_ he mumbled. 

"Good lord, do you suck."

By now, Maruki was completely soft, flopping uselessly out of Akechi's ass. He kept staring at the polymer and metal in his hands as if it were some kind of mysterious alien artifact. The very presence of the thing seemed to frighten him. 

"Listen," Akechi grunted. "We can do this your way, if you want."

"We… what?"

Akechi plucked the firearm from Maruki's grip, and the man sighed in silent relief. 

"If your cutesy, lovey-dovey bullshit can make me cum, I suppose I wouldn't complain."

"You- you mean that?"

The gun noisily tumbled to the ground, and Maruki jumped, the bullet on his chest flipping away off the bed. 

"Do you have it in you to hit me?" Akechi wondered.

"Of course n- ...I mean- well-"

"Bite me?"

"I-"

"Just get on top of me. And get that shirt off. We'll see what happens."

………

"Do you think people change, Takuto?"

Tucked under bedsheets, Maruki's fingers lazily circled Akechi's nipple. Being cradled in his arms was not entirely new and not entirely unpleasant. Akechi considered it a gift for the man who was able to tolerate him for so long. ...and besides, at least from a 'reaching climax' perspective, there seemed to be something to his lovey-dovey bullshit after all.

"That's sort of my job, man."

"Right. Let me know when you get around to un-raping all those Shujin kids."

"That's not funny."

"You're right, it wasn't a joke."

"You asked, shithead."

He did, and really, why had he? He knew what Maruki was going to say, and he didn't care. Obviously people change - it wasn't long ago that Maruki himself was tiptoeing around his words like a sissy trying to give Akechi respect he didn't want or deserve. Besides, it's not like he wanted a good answer anyway. He didn't want to change, and in fact resented the very idea that he should. ...he just felt as if he… might have already done it.

"If you're so good at your job, why don't you tell me how I'm feeling right now?"

"Probably more comfortable than it feels right to admit."

Akechi grabbed Maruki's hand, stopping its motion. 

"I shouldn't have asked."

"Just enjoy it. I know it's not easy."

"You don't know shit."

"You'll say that no matter what, huh?"

"It'll be _true_ no matter what."

Shifting, Maruki nuzzled up against Akechi's neck, softly kissing him. 

"You're afraid you've changed," he murmured.

"It would be an insult to say I'm afraid of anything."

"At the very least, you've grown to like me," Maruki continued, ignoring the comment. 

"You're a warm hole."

Another kiss. Akechi shifted, unconsciously rubbing his ass against Maruki's groin. 

"And you kiss me like I matter to you," Maruki accused. "You might trick those idiots on TV, but you can't keep trying to pull that shit with me."

"I killed three men today. Doesn't that bother you?"

"...were they bad people?"

"That's some hilariously black-and-white morality for a psychiatrist."

"You know what I'm asking. Just answer the question."

"Well, they were under my father's employ. I'm sure they all hurt or killed people who didn't deserve it. If that's enough for you to define someone as 'bad', then, yes. They were bad people."

"Have you _ever_ killed an innocent person? A good person?"

"I don't just go out and kill randomly - not people, at least. Regardless, I can't imagine what you hope to prove. I'm virtuous because I kill CEOs and politicians and mob liaisons? You think I'm such a child that I haven't already considered that?"

"That's not what I'm saying. Don't get me wrong, the things you do make me sick."

"I love you, too," Akechi sneered.

Fingers curled around Akechi's wrist and clamped shut. 

"Shut up and listen to me."

The sudden burst of aggression actually compelled Akechi to do just that. 

"You do things for a reason," Maruki continued. "You kill for a reason. You're not insane. You're not some kind of unhinged lunatic - not now. So crawl down out of your own ass, quit the act, and just be a fucking _person."_

Yet again, anger escaped Akechi. He wouldn't be mad at any old errant insult - that was kiddie shit - but considering who was saying it, the sentiment was… _weird._ During their time together, Maruki had certainly grown to be what Akechi would tentatively describe as 'courageous' (and perhaps 'uppity' was a better word for it), but something else must have spurred this outburst. 

"How accusatory of you, doctor," Akechi joked. 

Maruki's grip tightened, but he didn't say a damn thing. The breath at Akechi's back was slow and sturdy - measured. Silence draped over Akechi like an awkward fog. Maruki clearly wanted a serious answer, and he wasn't going to get one. 

"Okay, fine," Akechi groaned. "Whatever. I'm just a person. Pretty stupid to think I don't know that."

"Look at me."

With an eyebrow raised, Akechi turned himself over. 

"You know exactly what I'm saying," Maruki whispered. "And if you keep messing with me and playing dumb…"

He sighed. 

"You're lucky. Lucky I think you're so fucking sexy."

Akechi caught his kiss. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No clue what to say about this thing anymore. It's big, it's a mess, and I had no idea what I was doing the whole time. Hopefully this is satisfying to the 2 people who care about this dumb fic lol
> 
> Go watch some videos of arcflash accidents.

It was midday when the boy stirred. Of course, Akechi was already there. With no word from Shido, who knew what might have happened if he hadn't kept watch. Akira could have gotten hurt. 

_ "Akechi,"  _ Akira grunted in realization. His eyes were as bleary as could have been expected, and while their dullness could previously have been attributed to whatever drugs were forced upon him, they bore now the lightless sheen of emotional surrender. There was no life in his gaze, which Akechi immediately understood.

"Drink," Akechi ordered, gesturing to the glass on the table between them. 

While he obeyed, Akira's only thanks was a single grunt. The glass met the table again, and his palms met his face as his head slunk down into his hands, massaging his forehead desperately. 

"What happened?" Akira asked the carpet. 

"You were captured. I intervened."

"But…" a hand came up yet again to squeeze at his head, perhaps only to ground himself in the sensation. "You wanted to kill me..."

"Y-"

"We had a  _ plan,  _ I-"

Akira's hand went limp, and then slid down his face as he laid back into the couch, defeated. He glared steadily at Akechi like a deer staring at a hunter with a gun at his shoulder.

"What do you  _ mean,  _ I want to kill you?" Akechi demanded. 

"Tapped your phone," Akira sighed. 

While Akechi hadn't expected anyone to play into his hand so easily, he was certainly surprised by what he was hearing. It was less so that Akira had come to distrust him - that was unremarkable, even now - but the kid's act was flawless. Akechi wouldn't have suspected even the slightest bit of foul play, and Akira had already had some kind of 'plan' in place for him, whatever that meant. On top of that, tapping his phone was just nasty enough of a trick for him to almost smile - it was something  _ he  _ would have done. 

For whatever reason, Akira hardly seemed in the mood to revel in their competition. 

"You… saved me, right?"

"Yes."

"You killed those people? Was that real?"

"...yes."

_ "Jesus…" _

Rolling onto his back, Akira listlessly surveyed the ceiling. 

"Why?" he mumbled. 

"There's no short answer to that question," Akechi assured. "Certainly not that you'd understand. At the very least, I'll tell you this: your death played a small role in a private endeavor of mine - nothing personal, I assure you. Then, at some point I decided my goals could be slightly shifted if it meant saving your life."

"Christ, you're talking like this is nothing, man."

"I have no choice. I'm far too tired to feign distress. I realize it may be uncomfortable being here with me now that you know who I really am, and perhaps in another life I would have never let it come to this… but there's no point in fantasizing. Whatever you think of me, you're here. And that's… that's all."

"I just don't know what I'm supposed to think. You're a  _ killer.  _ I… watched you..."

"You've seen nothing, trust me. I won't beg for sympathy. I don't care about their lives, and I can't pretend to. Perhaps this will change. Perhaps not. One way or another, it'll all end soon."

"End… soon? You're not-"

"No. At least, I don't think so. Time will tell. On that note, your friends are probably trying to find Masayoshi Shido's palace. You might as well tell them it's a lost cause."

"On the phone, then, it  _ was _ him…"

"I had something more momentous planned for him… but he doesn't deserve it," Akechi growled. 

"I don't even  _ know  _ you," Akira mourned, watching Akechi's face for a sign of something familiar. "I… I don't know who you are right now."

"Like I said, I'm not going to ask you to pity me. Seeing as you're a wanted man, I simply thought you would want to… debrief before I tossed you out on the street."

"I want to  _ understand," _ Akira said quietly. "I- …" He turned, stifling a groan. An arm shielded his face from Akechi's eyes, but what was happening was too obvious to hide. Akechi fidgeted. He didn't expect Akira to be particularly thankful, but this was just pathetic. Sure, it was a lot to unpack, but christ, the leader of the Phantom Thieves should be able to stand up to a little murder. 

Jerkily, Akechi rose from his chair, adjusting his jacket and breathing in to speak although he had nothing left to say. He stepped once towards the couch, then twice, intently watching to make sure he didn't spook the boy. A hand floated upwards, perhaps to show that it was empty but probably because Akechi wasn't sure what to do with it. 

He sat at Akira's feet, leaning to pull him upright. Limply, the boy complied, although he would not return Akechi's embrace, instead seeing fit to lay his head against Akechi's shoulder in defeat. 

"I'm sorry I killed those men," Akechi hummed. "I know you wouldn't have wanted them to die, and I'm sorry for going against your wishes."

_ "You've… been this way… the whole time,"  _ Akira sniffled.  _ "I didn't… how could you?" _

Apology not accepted, apparently. What was weird was Akira's apparent fixation on Akechi himself. It was like he was more appalled to have been lied to than that Akechi killed anyone. What, did he have a crush on Akechi or something? Obviously not, but why would any of this crap matter otherwise? So what, he lied? 

He must have really cared. Akechi didn't really understand why or how. This boy was still a weakling, sure, but something inside of him was surely connected to Akechi. Neither of them would feel the way they felt if that weren't true. It wasn't a normal kind of connection, though. Akira didn't want to kill him, and they weren't romantic together… what should he even do? 

Akechi slipped his fingers into Akira's hair, combing it back. Suddenly and clumsily, he placed a solemn kiss on the boy's forehead. 

Akira tore free of his grip, scrambling off the couch and across the floor. He looked undeniably offended if not afraid.

"I- I didn't mean-" Akechi stuttered. 

"What? What else could that possibly mean?"

"I'm sorry." He settled on, though it was more of a placeholder than a confession as he considered what he just allowed himself to do. 

He wouldn't have much time, as Akira made for the door, fiddling with the padlock.

"Hey, you can't-"

_ Click. _

Akira started down the hall, and Akechi rose to give chase. 

_ "Stop!" _

Watching the boy stumble down the hall was more than a little pathetic, his injuries clearly stifling his usual grace and dexterity. All it took was a light jog to catch up. It felt wrong laying a hand on Akira, but he did it anyway. 

"You'll get spotted right away. You changed Niijima's heart, right?"

A slight nod. 

"Call her," Akechi said, pressing something into Akira's palm. "With this. Don't use your phone." 

With one step, there was a foot or so of space between them, within which radiated an unsure, awkward energy. Distrust poured from Akira's swollen eye.

"Just… be safe," Akechi sighed. "Don't get yourself hurt. Shido doesn't know who your friends are. Promise me you'll be safe."

Akira backed away, glancing at the phone in his hand. Without a word, he turned, jogging down the hallway and out of Akechi's sight. 

………

"Well?" Maruki asked, hanging his coat up and turning to catch and embrace an incoming Akechi. "Smooth sailing?"

"Not exactly. I'm not an easy person to forgive."

"That doesn't surprise me, I suppose."

"I don't want to fucking hear it from you right now," Akechi snarled, glaring up at Maruki and pushing him back up against the door. The doctor didn't even blink. 

"Mmh. Right. You two..." he pondered. "He'll… forgive you… eventually," Maruki promised in between kisses, making his way up the underside of Akechi's jawline to nibble his earlobe. 

"Sure," Akechi grunted, softening into Maruki's grasp. 

"You're just saying that because it's what I want to hear."

"Correct." 

Sliding a gloved thumb across Maruki's cheek, Akechi gave the man a final kiss and slipped away. It was far too late to be embarrassed at the realization that Maruki's mere presence had taken him out of his anger that quickly. He paced aimlessly to the window, staring at the grey building across the street. 

"So, what? That's it?" Maruki snorted. "No more black-ops supersoldiers lining up to bust down my door?"

"Don't be such a child," Akechi sighed. "This isn't over until Shido is dead, and even then…"

He turned towards a visibly confused Maruki, and after letting his words fruitlessly wane, gestured impatiently. Maruki's expression dimmed. 

"Oh," he grunted. 

"Jesus, some supreme leader you are. Can't even remember your own world domination plans. It's like a bad joke from some old cartoon."

"We've been  _ through  _ this-"

"And we decided not to talk about it, and I just did because I'm a prick. Set a better example, won't you?" Akechi crooned sarcastically. 

"I don't fish for pity, so who taught you that?" Maruki spat back. 

"My mother."

Maruki opened his mouth to speak, but quickly decided against it, instead slinking over to the couch and plopping himself down.  _ "Sorry,"  _ he grumbled. 

"Turn on the TV," Akechi suddenly said. 

Maruki glanced up, an eyebrow raised. He reached slowly to the remote, looking for approval from Akechi, who nodded accordingly. The TV blinked on, set to a news channel - what Akechi had been watching. The side-story on display was irrelevant, but the ticker below scrolled through a line of text detailing mysterious murders inside a police building. It assured watchers that the  **PHANTOM THIEF LEADER** was  **NO LONGER IN POLICE CUSTODY,** and promised  **FURTHER UPDATES AS THE STORY UNFOLDS.**

"Find another news channel," Akechi said. 

A sharply dressed if plain-looking woman sat opposite a cop, whose face might as well have been chiseled out of stone for all the emotion it held. 

"-some kind of international assistance, perhaps an extremist sect from the west. It remains to be seen-"

"He had help, you say?" the woman interrupted. "Are you sure?"

"We have reason to believe that escape would have been impossible otherwise. The individual was restrained, pacified, and heavily guarded. Security is a number-one-"

"What do you mean when you say he was  _ pacified?" _

"He was restrained. Look, when it comes to-"

Gently, Maruki set the remote down. 

"So, they let the story out already," he said startlingly sternly. 

"The perfect thing to drum up drama over Shido's campaign. It would be better than just killing Akira if the race wasn't all but over as it is."

"I knew I felt something," Maruki mumbled, to which Akechi made a quizzical noise. "This must be everywhere by now."

"It's international news. I'm sure the yankees wouldn't care if it didn't involve the Phantom Thieves. ...what exactly did you feel?"

_ "Oh, christ. Ohh, christ,"  _ Maruki softly groaned to himself, massaging his forehead. 

"Fuck's sake,  _ what?" _

"It's open. It has to be."

Though it looked like Maruki had much to say, he fell silent. Their stares met unceremoniously as the doctor tried and failed to calm himself, fidgeting with the fabric of his pants. 

"...cold feet?" Akechi wondered. 

"No, not about Mementos."

"About me."

Maruki nodded.

"Fair enough," Akechi decided. "I'd tell you to relax, but you don't have any reason to trust me."

"I'd have hoped I would by now."

While in sentiment the words were rather biting, they fell out of Maruki like a resignation more than an accusation. In truth, Akechi had long reached the point where he, too, wished that things would just work themselves out. While Maruki never had a chance at cleansing the boy of his spite, he was at least a source of solace. Since his stint as Akechi's personal human stress ball, he had developed the uncanny ability to calm the tired tide of pain sloshing in the boy's head, and whether it was emotional connection that made it possible or some meaningless pavlovian conditioning, Akechi didn't care - he felt the same either way. 

And anyway, it  _ was  _ time for… something. Akechi doubted even Maruki knew what was in store at the base of Mementos. He really didn't even know what he was going to do about it all. Obviously, if he wanted to kill the guy, it wouldn't be easy, but now it wasn't so much that he  _ wanted  _ to do it but that he  _ had  _ to. There were surely others as damaged as Maruki, and equally as willing to play his part. Akechi wondered if any of those people would be as genuine as Maruki or if they weren't all just fetishistic masochists. Clearly, Maruki had a masochistic streak, but not to such an insultingly earnest degree. 

But why was any of that important? Because Maruki was important. Months ago, the very thought would have made Akechi wretch. 

"So, do you want to go now?" Akechi asked, forcing himself to focus. 

"You're… coming?"

"Why not?"

"Because this is when we agreed we'd settle things."

"We never agreed on the specifics," Akechi scoffed, smirking. "What, afraid I've got some kind of plan?"

A half-groan-half-sigh escaped Maruki as he slumped back in his seat, head in hand.

"Think about it," Akechi continued. "I can't kill you if it's not near instantaneous and you're not already on guard. Your persona sabotaged your own  _ suicide _ attempt. Do you think I would get anywhere if I charged you right here and now? Pulled my gun?"

_ "Jesus, you're still so cold,"  _ Maruki whispered. 

"No. If that were true, you'd have been dead weeks ago."

………

Mementos's continuing spiral into boredom seemed to have reached its logical conclusion. It was almost embarrassing to have ever taken pleasure in slaughtering such weak, stupid creatures. Their blood and screams and pleas for mercy now seemed almost quaint as Akechi considered just how pointless they were to him. Killing those shadows didn't hurt anyone real, and Akechi sure as fuck didn't care whether or not it would make some random idiot be nicer to people (or whatever it was those naive Thieves took so much pride in). For all it mattered, Akechi might as well have been stepping on ants. The world wouldn't care. It wasn't challenging or interesting. Why bother?

Still, the thrill of battle was in many ways irreplicable, and it was becoming apparent how satisfying it could be to fight alongside an equal. Akechi wondered whether it was fair to designate Maruki's status as 'an equal' when they were clearly something much different, but  _ friend _ or  _ partner  _ or even  _ lover  _ were all pretty repellent if not inaccurate.

Akechi hadn't made a move, because it was like he said: there were no moves to make. Maruki's eyes never left him, and even if they had, his persona was likely nice and ready to dish out some kind of punishment. It had been so long since they'd fought together that Akechi had forgotten how strong Maruki really was. Sure, it was likely up to his persona (what self-respecting magical manifestation of mankind's inner desires would care about  _ physical fitness,  _ anyway?), but he nonetheless seemed to transform into someone else when facing down an enemy. As he pressed on, barreling through each shadow fists-first, his affable front slowly fell apart. His hair fell messily across his face. He unbuttoned his jacket, the tails of his untucked shirt fluttering behind him. He undid the first button of his shirt, then later another, and soon after yet another. 

At some point, he slowed to a stop, leaned against the wall, and fanned Mementos's unfortunately lukewarm air across his bare neck. Akechi eyed the sparse scruff peeking out of his shirt. 

"Stop that," Maruki snapped, taking notice of the lecherous gaze. "This isn't the goddamn time."

"There isn't much time left anyway. I might as well enjoy it."

Maruki's panting breaths abruptly stopped, and his eyelids trembled just once. Without comment, he turned to continue down the tunnel. Akechi stared at his back, bemused. Apparently, Maruki would have rather opened himself to attack than continue that conversation. 

………

The yawning mouth of a tall, black stairway leaked stagnant air onto the already uncomfortable train platform. Maruki's suspicions had proved correct, and now that he faced that fact, he seemed as unwilling as ever to accept the consequences. Both of them stood in silence, watching the abyss. Maybe something would jump out of it and tear them both to shreds - then at least neither of them would have to take responsibility.

In silence, Maruki unstuck a mass of sweat-clumped hair from his forehead and stepped down. Idly twirling his knife in his hand, Akechi followed. The boy wondered whether he was being afforded unworthy trust or if every step deeper into Mementos simply eroded Maruki's will to live. 

"So, what's down here, then?" Akechi asked, becoming increasingly tired of Maruki's attitude. 

"Not sure."

"But your persona knows, I would think?"

"I know they seem like separate entities, but you shouldn't keep referring to them like that. Personas aren't demons or angels.  _ They  _ are  _ us." _

"Right…" Akechi sighed. How Maruki's persona could seemingly counteract his own wishes eluded him, were Maruki's assertion true. Perhaps, though, the man's persona was made from something deeper than the surface, like the opposite of Robin Hood's reflection of Akechi's boy detective front. If that were the case… oh, to hell with all that speculation bullshit. It wasn't going to be relevant for much longer. 

Out of the blackness came a dimly lit door bearing the same geometric pattern as all the others. As they approached, however, they noticed a more conventional looking set of metal doors on the right wall. Despite Mementos's general similarities to a real train station, they'd never seen a door like this.  **MECHANICAL ROOM** , it declared. Maruki palmed the handle.

"This one," he said softly. 

"Planning on fixing the air conditioning? That's what I'd like to see."

Maruki shot a stern glance over his shoulder, lacking the words to express his disappointment. Then, he turned the handle. 

The space was less boiler room and more laboratory. Cables of varying size - from old, thin phone wires to massive bundles of com cables - sprouted out of the center of the room, leaving through penetrations in every wall, the ceiling, and even the floor. They terminated at a very industrial looking control panel, which was wide enough to fit more buttons and keypads and displays than were likely necessary for any real-world machinery. 

Akechi glanced at the conduit running down through the floor. "There are floors below this?" he wondered aloud. 

"Not floors  _ plural,  _ I don't think. There's  _ something _ more even deeper in - that much I can feel - but this is… different." 

"Why not put all this shit down there?"

"I think they're separate for a reason. Like someone is meant to use this.  _ I'm  _ meant to use this."

Akechi rolled his eyes, not caring that Maruki wasn't looking. In fact, the doctor was more focused on the control panel, loping over to it and hovering his hands above an assortment of keys. 

There was a moment of silence as he stood motionless. He was almost inhumanly still, his torso not even bearing the characteristic expansion and contraction of respiration. Then, a tentacle appeared from a haze above his shoulder, slithering down and pressing a button. A display flashed on one of the tiny screens. 

This was it, Akechi supposed. Make it or break it time. He imagined drawing his gun and trying to shoot Maruki, and that he would surely be dead before the thing was even pointed at the guy. He hoped for that much, at least. It wasn't very climactic, but he would die fighting for what he believed in. That was poetic enough, considering it was about to be entirely meaningless. anyway. 

Still…

He wasn't sure what was left for him without Maruki. At this point, killing Shido felt like more of an obligation than an act of passion. All the fame and fortune would just be as meaningless as it always was, so why hadn't he just offed the guy any old day? Yes, Maruki was still as pathetic and selfish as ever, but he was the first person Akechi ever felt like he'd had any kind of actual effect on. He'd broken the man. Scarred him in ways only Akechi could. And yet, that sick fuck loved him back. 

Well, Akechi didn't love him, it was a simple turn of phrase that-

Nevermind, there was shit going down. Standing around wasn't going to do a damn thing. 

"So, this place is like the 'central server' of sorts for Mementos, right?"

Maruki's chest began moving again, but he did not turn. Another tentacle slithered from the space above him and daintily tapped a couple of keys. 

"Yes, that's right. Why?" Maruki responded flatly. 

"Does it serve the entire metaverse?"

"You're asking strange questions, Goro Akechi."

Intrigued and more than a little bit confused, Akechi slowly made his way around to the side of the control panel. Maruki's face wasn't even pointed at Akechi, but his eyes rolled towards the boy, unnaturally wide yet emotionless. They diligently followed Akechi as he continued walking, passing the main group of cables and reaching the other side. Yet another tentacle grappled with the odd controls, and Maruki never moved an inch but for his odd gaze.

"Just curious," Akechi explained. Calm though his demeanor was, his attempts at deciphering what he was seeing were leaving him somewhat hopeless. "This is all just… very new to me. Don't you understand?" he said carefully. 

"Yes, I understand," came from Maruki's mouth, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

No. No, this was all wrong. They were supposed to  _ at least _ fight. Regardless of the outcome, Akechi wanted to spend these final moments with Maruki, not whatever was standing in front of him. He couldn't even rely on the man's human error anymore - his persona was clearly in full control. 

Control… there was a control panel…

Akechi cursed himself for not having put more effort into the actual 'detective' part of his job. 

If that thing deflected his question about the metaverse, the answer was probably yes. Apparently, this room was all it needed to control all of reality. Who knew how many branching paths led from this one central point? 

Maybe he didn't have to kill anyone. Maybe they would both end up dying anyway. Anything was better than nothing. 

Did electricity work the same in the metaverse or was that some kind of irritating metaphorical thing too? Certainly  _ magic  _ didn't run through conductive copper w-

Another tentacle pushed through the haze behind Maruki, and Akechi noticed that the group had begun pecking at and writhing around the controls much faster than before. 

It would have to be good enough. 

Slowly, Akechi drew his dagger. From behind the panel, there was enough room that it might not seem like a threat, but any movement too sudden might mean a humiliating, degrading end. 

"What are you planning on doing with that knife, Goro Akechi? Y-"

Akechi thrust hard to the left, plunging the blade into the coil of cables. 

For a moment, he thought he had killed himself. He couldn't hear, but instead of blackness, all he could see was white. Then came the pain. His hand and arm seemed to have been transformed into a ball of fire, the feeling of which gradually grew to be unbearable. With that came a sliver of awareness that, yes, he was  _ somewhere _ and that he should probably do  _ something.  _ With a grunt (could he hear it or just feel the vibration in his own skull?), he fought the ground, rolling over onto the blazing limb. 

White faded to grey, and Akechi recognized the pitted concrete of the floor. Pushing through the pain, he continued rolling, flopping back onto his back. Self-preservation jolted Maruki's existence from his mind as he instead forced his head to turn and look at his right arm. Singed cloth stuck in loose patches to it, and what wasn't covered was either crimson red or already welling up in thick blisters. 

Akechi cried out.

His head fell back, and he noticed listlessly that the rubber insulation on the cables was melting, chemical flames spitting sickening black smoke up towards the ceiling. White hot sparks arced between the wires within, fusing the whole bundle together into one big short. His knife was stuck, fused into the metal and glowing a dim orange from the heat. 

From around the side of the control panel, a hazy shape emerged. It contracted and squirmed back into shape, slowly making its way into view. It was dragging Maruki's body with the help of the other appendages, but none of them seemed able to hold their shape for very long. One of them flexed and convulsed, the trail of haze behind it engulfing more and more of it until it was gone completely. The rest pushed and pulled and squirmed along, shuffling the doctor's body along the ground until it was directly in front of a supine Akechi. 

A tentacle groped at Maruki's head, propping it upright against the ground. His eyes were still open. Did he want to watch, or did  _ it _ want  _ him _ to watch? Was there a difference? The question could not pierce through the curtain of flame still radiating from Akechi's arm. 

The most tangible tentacle slithered down across Maruki's shoulder and onto the floor. As it writhed towards Akechi, more of it became visible. It distended further and further, its pale, slimy green skin giving way to a random network of fishlike gills and pulsating buboes, themselves dotted with pearl-white protrusions that jutted out into the air, hard and square. The more it grew, the more its brethren trembled, fading into nothingness. And even despite the thing's best efforts, that haze of nonexistence was slowly creeping along the one remaining nightmarish limb. God knew why it kept trying to reach Akechi when it was so clearly struggling to remain corporeal. 

Akechi wasn't sure if the room was filling with smoke, or if it was suffering a similar fate to the monster. He considered kicking at the thing that was crawling towards him, but it took all he had just to look around. He could only watch as the fading tentacle wrapped around his boot.

A bright haze of pain impaled Akechi's thoughts, rendering them meaningless as he watched his foot spin around once, then again, then another time.

………

_ Your hips twitch but his cock keeps ramming into you, your eyes watery and your cheeks screaming red and you tell him to stop just to feel him hit you again because maybe you get off on being hurt and maybe you don't but you know you deserve it  _

_ His thumb leaves your larynx and you let yourself whimper as he slaps you again and again and _

………

Blackness again. No pain. No more pain. 

……...

_ He won't listen to you. _

_ He's not a psychopath. _

_ He understands. _

_ But he won't listen to you. _

………

It wasn't the same as the last time. It felt like it would end at any moment. 

……...

_ He rules over you now, and if you ever thought you felt helpless before this, it wasn't true. You know you have it in you to just end it. You're not even sure why you do what he says at this point. The novelty is gone if it was ever there, and the idea of seeking approval or acceptance is only getting dumber by the day. What you're doing isn't justice. You don't even know what the fuck you're doing. But you keep doing it. Keep letting him do it. _

………

Somehow, Akechi knew that his father was dead. 

………

_ He cried last night. In his sleep. You had been lying awake because you and sleep hadn't gotten along well since college. You wonder how often it happens, or if he knows he does it. He's not loud. Not violent. Just… pathetic. He didn't say anything of substance, but you think you could make out a 'please'. If only out of pity, you settle back in and embrace him.  _

………

What it accomplished or whether it was simply out of spite, it didn't matter.

………

_ You knew he was weak from the start. People like him are either dangerously confident or just barely holding on. He doesn't kill people to better himself, he does it because it's all he  _ **_can_ ** _ do. Clearly, a sound, reasoned argument would not unseat years of psychological conditioning.  _

………

It wasn't entirely unnatural for men like him to have heart attacks. Unlikely, maybe. But not unnatural. It must have been fairly easy to influence. 

………

_ Things are already off the rails. It doesn't matter how unstable he is or how immoral any of it had become. But something tells you it's worth it. You've devoted so much time to the science of the matter, but what good was all that horseshit? You can do it yourself. You can change him yourself. For the better? Doesn't matter. If you accidentally push him too far, it's not like he won't deserve what he gets.  _

………

A thin seam of light glinted across the blackness. Akechi hoped he was dying.

………

_ You might not even care anymore. It sounds despicable but you've already gone and fucked him so it's not like you're not in deep karmic shit anyway. He acts like he doesn't care, but you know it's not true. You're like his security blanket. He doesn't even go back to his dorm anymore. You haven't slept alone in weeks. The smartass even thinks he's the one using you. If only he knew how good it really felt.  _

………

………

……...

Akechi was not dead. He saw a familiar face, but… her? That didn't  _ (look, look! he's-)  _ make much sense. Besides, there was only  _ (Akechi! Goro, c-)  _ one person he wanted to see. He went back to sleep. 

………

………

……...

There weren't enough sharp objects within the reach of the average hospital patient. How was Akechi supposed to get his carotid artery open with a plastic knife?

The sterile room mocked him from above, the ICU providing a nice soundtrack of infuriatingly grating beeps and bloops, just to make sure he couldn't even relax if he wanted to. The drugs were alright, though, and although he was mildly surprised they would go all out on someone so young, he  _ was  _ missing a foot. 

He clung to the pain like a stuffed animal. It was the only thing he had, being stuck in a bed. And despite it being far more extreme than anything he'd ever experienced, he seemed more comfortable for it. Periodically, a nurse would re-dress his arm, which by now was starting to look less like a burn wound paint swatch and more like a piece of pale jerky with fingers on one end. 

He aimed with that fucking arm, goddamn it. 

But, really… he wasn't sure how seriously to take himself anymore. The metaverse was gone, Shido was dead, he was down one appendage, and God knew what the hell happened to Maruki.  _ He _ hardly mattered anymore either; even though Akechi had previously convinced himself his connection to the man was purely superficial, learning what Maruki really kept him around for was like a slap in the face. Why would Maruki's persona show him that? A panicked, last minute mixup? Fuck, why would his persona kill Shido? It was spiteful, even to Akechi. 

And that wasn't even mentioning the whole Maruki-Persona duality. Loki was, in battle, really just an extension of Akechi. If the thing had thoughts and feelings and aspirations of its own, they just mirrored  _ his.  _ The hippy-dippy nature of all that Psience crap was too nebulous for Akechi to think too hard about, and besides, it was all gone now anyway. 

Akechi depressed the button on his morphine pump. The doctor had told him to use it when he was in pain (though if he actually did that, the hospital would be out of anesthetic in a few days) and that it was designed so as to prevent accidental overdoses (which, if anything, was a disappointment). Relaxing into the shitty mattress, he drifted away into an ethereal warmth.

………

Akechi awoke to a familiar face. Despite having presumably sat for minutes or even hours, the man was scooted forwards in his chair, staring intently at Akechi.

_ "Jesus…"  _ Akechi sighed. 

Maruki's mouth tightened, and then loosened. His eyes, dark and bleary, defocused as he searched his thoughts for something to say. 

"Guy like you, I would have thought you would have rehearsed this," Akechi sneered. 

With a single chuckle that mutated into a sob, Maruki stood, turning and tapping his hand against his hip. 

"Y-you must be okay if you're back to talking like that," he wavered. 

"Okay? I'm okay?"

"You…?" Maruki said aimlessly, slowly turning back to the bed.

"Shido is dead. The metaverse is gone. Prettyboy TV detectives aren't typically amputees. And I'm okay?"

"I'm… sorry. That was insensitive," Maruki admitted, sitting back down. 

"Don't grovel, you maggot," Akechi whined, fumbling blindly for the drugs. "It's pathetic. Fucking embarrassing to think you almost killed me."

"Goro,  _ please… _ I-I just want to talk to you. I know you do, too. Want to make sense of this. Want to find-"

"You just don't want to feel like the bad guy. Used to be easy with me around, I'm sure. Why not just own it? It's not like you weren't pretending to care about me this whole goddamn time."

Maruki's head dipped into his hand.  _ "Oh,"  _ he choked.  _ "You saw that too, huh…" _

"I'm  _ sure  _ you were planning on telling me."

"I- I  _ was,  _ but- God, Goro? How am I supposed to… ...the last thing I wanted was for you to find out like  _ that.  _ A-and it's not like it looked, my persona-"

"Hold the fuck up," Akechi growled, weakly propping himself up as much as he could manage. "You said it yourself - personas  _ were  _ us. So if you're about to try and pawn the shit you did off on some fucking thing that doesn't even  _ exist  _ anymore, just keep your stupid mouth shut."

Jerkily turning away in his seat, Maruki pulled his glasses off of his face. His free hand splayed over his eyes, quiet sobs shaking his chest. Akechi was used to the guy being pathetic, but this was just  _ tragic.  _ Not tragic enough to garner sympathy, but just enough for Akechi to really believe that Maruki was legitimately at the end of his rope. 

There had been a lot of time to think, being stuck in bed all day every day. Time to think about Maruki, mostly. Of course he was a scheming, self-righteous scumfuck - of course he was a killer - but the former was already true and the latter was only somewhat surprising. Akechi hadn't even really wanted his death to come at the man's hands - how boring would that have been? Now, though, death was death. He shouldn't be holding a grudge over Maruki's failure to kill him when he could just finish the job himself. 

And it wasn't like what they had wasn't real in some way. Akechi could read people well enough to know it would take a Bundy-caliber psychopath to fake their relationship entirely, and Maruki wasn't that. Confused, misguided, in over his head - sure. But if there was anyone who would have been capable of being so maliciously detached, it should have been Akechi. 

Of course, that wasn't what happened. Now, the growing tension of Akechi's denial was at its peak, warring with his conscious mind. He knew he shouldn't be glad to see Maruki, but he knew he was. The whole fucked up mess was just another reason he wanted to get home. Not to his own bed, but to his gun. 

After a long silence, something quiet escaped Maruki. 

"It hurts, Goro."

"Hm?"

"All of it - it fuckin' hurts, man.  _ I  _ did this.  _ I  _ p- ...put you here.  _ I don't even know why I did it, I just- ...a-a-and, I  _ **_killed-"_ **

"I know."

_ "What?" _ Maruki gasped, finally peeking back at Akechi through red eyes. 

"You think I've always been like this?"

_ "I- I guess not, no."  _ It came out of Maruki more like a cautious question. 

"Alone, yes… but  _ this…  _ Hold on to what you're feeling, Takuto. Remember it. I ignored those feelings, and I don't regret it, but…"

Maruki's tearful eyes scanned Akechi for answers. 

"...you would."

Maruki closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, visibly conflicted. Nervous fingers gripped his pantleg, knuckles white. 

"I know," the man finally sighed. "I know, and I'm sorry you had to see me like this, but… it's better than nothing."

"Always with the apologies," Akechi grunted.

"Just… listen. I think, in some weird, fucked-up way, my persona was trying to tell me something.  _ I  _ was trying to…  _ realize  _ something, I'm not sure, but… I think I always knew deep down that what I was doing was wrong. What I did… how could I forgive myself?"

"It takes practice."

"I just think it was a wake-up call. That… that-"

"That you don't have the nerve to rule over a damn thing. Or the guts to kill."

Almost as if he were ignoring the comment, Maruki reached into the bag that Akechi hadn't noticed sitting by the bedside chair. When his hand emerged, it was gripping his handgun.

Plenty came to mind. It would have been easy to crack another joke -  _ 'maybe you do have the guts after all'  _ or even simply  _ 'unfinished business?'  _ \- but despite the nonchalance with which Akechi considered his own death, he knew Maruki was not the same. Hell, the guy had just said so in no uncertain terms. This was… different for him. Bold. 

It was all the more surprising, then, that Akechi found the grip of the gun being thrust towards him. Maruki must have seen the surprise sneak through Akechi's eyes. 

"Took it from your jacket at home," he explained, his voice now duller than his eyes. It was the unmistakable look of a man who had given up - one Akechi had spent hours studying in the mirror. "You didn't deserve a damn thing that happened to you, and I only made it worse. Whatever you want to do… please, just do it. Before I change my mind."

Of course, Akechi wanted to laugh. 

It was so funny - so sick, so utterly disturbed - that it was all he could do to  _ not  _ laugh. 

Akechi took the gun with his good arm and aimed it at Maruki. 

The man's breaths accelerated, his chest rising and falling more and more violently. His eyes, though, remained trained on Akechi. To the boy, a man who could stare down his killer was plenty impressive. Hell, the whole stunt was impressive. 

Maruki's jaw clenched, his eyebrows twitching at the ends, knuckles so white on his balled fists it must have hurt. 

**_"BANG!"_ ** Akechi screamed. 

Maruki screamed, too, scrambling out of his chair and tumbling to the ground. His cheek met the tile floor. 

Akechi finally laughed. 

Before the man could pick himself up, a nurse had already burst into the room. Akechi slid the gun beneath the covers. 

"Akechi-san, what happened? What's going on?" the nurse begged. 

"Sorry. Call it a practical joke." Akechi grinned sheepishly. 

"Oh…" she mumbled, eyes shifting to the pile of Maruki on the floor. "Oh. O-okay, but please don't do that again. There are other patients here."

"Sure thing. Tell them I say sorry, too."

The nurse mumbled a dazed farewell as the door shut behind her. 

Catching his breath, Maruki righted himself in his chair. 

"That… wasn't funny," he managed. 

"Oh, shut up. Just be glad we're both still breathing."

"B-but-"

"Cute gesture, really. I'm amazed you'd do that for me."

"Goro, I wasn't  _ trying  _ to be  _ cute.  _ Your fucking  _ gun-" _

"Come on, you really think I wanted to kill you? Besides, what if I simply shot myself instead? Then you'd have no choice to do it yourself unless you wanted to get tossed in jail for homicide."

"I don't get it," Maruki sighed, staring at the floor. "I thought…  _ fuck me, I don't know what I thought."  _ He rose, approaching the bedside. "Look, I'm just… I'm not myself right now. This whole thing's taken a lot out of me, and I- I don't know what to  _ do." _

"Get some sleep. Wait until I get out of this shithole. Then we can figure it out together, hm?"

"You mean that?"

"Sure. What else am I going to do?  _ Besides  _ shooting myself, but that's second on the priority list."

_ "You  _ mean that?  _ You?" _

"Christ, aren't you supposed to be good with people? Is it that unbelievable that I might like you?"

"I'm… sorry. Again. I know, I know, no more apologies, but…"

"Remember when you told me you loved me?"

Hectically, Maruki's eyes flitted up to meet Akechi's. A new round of redness bloomed across his cheeks. 

"Did you mean it?" Akechi wondered. 

"I… think so."

"What about now?"

Maruki took a breath. 

"In a strange, fucked-up way… yes."

"Well, I think we're both plenty strange and fucked up on our own, so that works for me."

"So… what about you? Do you l-  _...love me?" _

"Of course, dumbfuck."

………

Epilogue 

………

Having a prosthetic foot was somewhere between wearing one stilt and trying on one shoe at the store. It was a constant irritant, but when compared to a constant thirst for bloodshed, it was pretty much a net gain, Akechi thought. He hobbled across the threshold, tossing a handful of junk mail onto the counter. Maruki was still at work, though god knew what he was still working on now that there were only a handful of people left on earth who would ever know what 'Cognitive Psience' was, or why he had to stay after hours instead of coming home to work. He really cared about those snot-nosed imbeciles that lined the Shujin halls, it seemed. Well… to each their own, Akechi supposed. 

He sat down in the living room and flipped on the TV. He had a working theory that he might better understand the average person by growing to understand what they liked, and entertainment was an easy venue for experimentation. 

He flipped through and found some comedy show. 

It wasn't funny. Any of it. 

This wasn't going to be easy. 

His experiment was interrupted by a knock on the door. Bemused and mildly intrigued, Akechi shut the TV off and went to check. 

"K-Kurusu-kun?"

"Hello, Akechi."

After a brief-but-not-quite-brief-enough moment, Akechi broke free from the grasp of surprise and urged Akira into the apartment, leading him to the same couch he had spent the night on however long ago. 

"I wasn't sure you'd ever want to see me again," Akechi admitted. 

"Well, that's part of why I'm here. If we left things like we did, it would weigh on my conscience forever. Forgiveness… is important to me."

"I'm glad. It's good to see you again. Almost nostalgic, though not much time has passed."

"Same here. Are you alright? I mean - and I'm sorry if I'm prying, but - you were kinda walking funny, and, um-"

"Ah, it's nothing. And you're not prying. Just sore."

"Sure," Akira agreed absently. "...not to cut this short, but I'd really like to know… Shido. Was that you?"

"I wished it was. It was a heart attack, I hear. That said, I'm not sure I'm stubborn enough to care about him anymore. I won't forgive him, but… he's gone now. So who cares, right?"

"Did… did something happen to you?"

"Lots of things. I'm afraid you've never really known me… but if you want a more practical answer, I found someone."

"O-oh," Akira stuttered. "Right on, man!"

"Mmhm. This isn't my apartment, by the way."

"One more thing, actually - then you can tell me about the lucky… guy?"

Akechi nodded. Of course it was a guy, you idiot. When was the last time you saw him kiss a girl? Oh well.. 

"The metaverse. I'm sure you noticed," Akira said grimly. 

"Yes. An anti-climactic end for you folks, I'm sure."

"It's weird, alright. But… you don't know what happened? Why it's gone?"

"I might be a detective, but I'm not  _ that  _ smart. I'd like to know as badly as you do."

"Worth a shot, I guess."

"That it was."

"...so, you want to tell me about your new boyfriend?"

"It's a long story, but sure."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, you can follow me at @DegenerateMoron


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